Vendel'o Eranu
by Cynpix
Summary: With the threat of the Legion and Dalaran's desperation evergrowing, a misfit group of Azerothian's find themselves allied together for one sole purpose: to save Azeroth. Will prejudices be set aside, or will they be lighting their funeral pyres early? Rated M for violence/trauma, sexual content and naughty words. Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, simply adore it.
1. Chapter 1: Clueless

Azure eyes pierced into the stone wall ahead of them. The off-white bricks were speckled with copper-tinted markings, and the occasional vulgarity singed or runed into the wall. Isarai refrained from offering herself or Ruthios a running commentary, as they were soon to be greeted.

The two were sat in a pair of creaky wooden chairs positioned against the opposing wall, nestled crudely in the backroom of one of Dalaran's many bookstores. Isarai turned to Ruthios. She couldn't tell whether or not he was looking at her, as the half of his face she could see was deadpan through the deep scars marring his face, which had only through the recent years began to show signs of age, and the eye of that side obscured by a singular, mechanical goggle. He seemed to be looking straight on like she had been, until he gently grazed his leather-clad elbow into hers. The corner of his lips upturned into one of his rare half-smiles that was meant to be reassuring.

Isarai leaned in a little closer, her messy, tousled blonde hair swayed with the movement, resting slightly on Ruthios' broad shoulders as her plump lips parted with the vaguest of movements, her delicate voice but a whisper for his human ears only, yet still too loud for comfort for her elvish ones. These very ears diipped in an attempt to ease her own paranoia of being louder than what she wanted. "Why are we here?"

Ruthios' shrugged, the motion itself causing the strand of hair to slink back from his shoulder and back to Isarai's own. He had no words, but his posture and another graze from his elbow told the little elf to be patient. She felt herself pout, but resisted the urge to sigh and instead tightened the fold of her arms, mimicking Ruthios' posture.

He smirked, which lasted but a second as the bookcase to the right of the duo shifted with a groan, exposing a deep hole in the building. Isarai's slender brows shot up in vague surprise. She gave Ruthios a questioning look, but he was already half-way through the newly discovered entrance. With haste, she followed until she was in the comfort of his heels.

The cave was just that; dark and decrepit. Isarai began to feel uneasy as various thoughts of the cave giving way on them, trapping the duo beneath the rubble and choking them of their last breaths. Her breath hitched as she fought the claustrophobia, with Ruthios shooting her only one concerned look, before turning forward again and following the pathway. He had heard vague rumours circulating the seedy underground of Dalaran, yet never had the pleasure to experience it himself. Though, he could've sworn they were sewers, and not caves. This little mystery-tinged fact caused him to instinctively cup his course fingers around the hilt of the sword at his hip, even as a dim light ahead of them became evident, exposing jagged rocks pointing down at them from the roof of the cave's tunnel.

They reached the end and looked down into a small pit, surrounded by the very same jagged rocks. It faintly resembled illustrations of the Orcish fighting rings that Isarai had been shown by an elderly gentleman who claimed to of lost his pinkie toe upon stubbing it against one of the 'blasted things', an attempt to swindle Isarai from kicking tables in a strop for the future. It worked. She didn't want to lose any of her toes, and had ceased to kick tables since.

The same hesitancy caused Isarai to climb with care into the pit, still acting as Ruthios' shadow. She blinked her blue eyes in an owlish manner as she looked around, trying to ignore Ruthios' disgruntled glower. Though, he remained quiet.

Isarai took another moment to peek out from behind him, looking up, down and around. She eased her weight from one foot to the next, her ears pointed to the ceiling in an effort to listen out for any sign of life. Intelligent, or otherwise.

Impatience irked her core, causing her to adopt the same look of irritability as her mentor. She gave him a look. _Can we go already?_ She wanted to ask.

Ruthios seemed to understand, and shared the same feeling of annoyance at his time being wasted. Just as he rolled his shoulder in gesture for her to head out first, an unworldly growl emitted from the shadows of the way they came. The two looked up to see a distorted creature, who's face was made up of that of long rows of pointed teeth and singular, sharp claws for feet. It was spiked and it's skin scaly and blood red, with a tangled, shaggy mane along it's back. It's tail swished back menacingly, before it let out of another gurgled cry. It hurtled forward, all teeth bared.

Isarai felt herself freeze, while Ruthios charged straight into the fight. He aptly swung his sword and slashed at the felhound's right front leg. It let out a pained cry, and tried to snare Ruthios's head between it's jaws. The human flung himself back, granting the creature a bash to the side of his head with his shoulder in response, offering his own menacing snarl. The beast's tail whipped through the air blindly, whipping Ruthios with such a force that his body tumbled back.

Isarai squeaked and began to move forward to Ruthios' aid, only for the beast's body to quiver, it's 'snout' turned up into the air. Immediately, it's mane hackled and the creature looked in the little elf's direction. Her blue eyes widened. She remained still, but the felhound released another guttural roar and charged.

Isarai's hand flew to one of the pouches at her flank, throwing it down to the ground and swarming her in a hazy fog. Upon inhaling, the felhound recoiled and wheezed, it's 'snout' pointed to the ground as it haplessly scuttled around for it's prey, only for Ruthios' sword to impale itself through the length of the felhound's chest just as the human's feet met the beast's back. Another cry followed, this one pained, which only intensified as Ruthios' sword emitted a golden glow even from inside the creature. It's scales crackled, oozing fel and rays of Light before the creature began to disintegrate into an ashen husk, it's cry bouncing off of the walls and causing Isarai's ears to twitch and lower as the fog discarded through the Light, exposing her form. Ruthios' spotted her, and immediately wrenched his sword out of the creature before it fully had time to smoulder, leaving but a pile of ashes in it's wake.

Isarai stared at the creature, then at Ruthios', who approached with a concerned scowl. She thickly swallowed and got to her feet, not bothering to dust the dirt from her kneecaps.

"Bravo, brava," A sly hiss of a voice emitted. The two looked but could not see in any direction as the world around them dwindled, the jagged points, the pit and the cave shifting into a different form: a room, with spectators of various faces and races, whom all stood with a mixture of expressions. Some impressed, others not so much.

Isarai felt herself slouch, instinctively taking her place at Ruthios' heel, her form barely visible from his flank, peeking out just enough to see the speaker.

To call him a man would be far from the truth for either her or Ruthios. For he stood with a duo of horns sprouting from atop of his head, pointing up and outwards much like a stag's. His body was crackled and naked from the waist-up, with a dim flow of fel seeping from between the cracks, with an even brighter glow emanating from the tattoos decorating his chest, illuminating the faint curvature of various muscles. But what caught Isarai the most were his eyes; visible even beneath the simple black blindfold, with the same fellish glow radiating from these, slithering upwards like green smoke.

"Valein," Ruthios almost spat, then his eyes crossed over the other figures. His eyes narrowed deeper at the realisation that there was not one but four Blood Elves amongst the company. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"The only pleasure owed was granted with that impressive display, Mr. Blythe," The Illidari coo'd in Common. His grin was coy, and his arms moved to fold themselves across his broad chest, which he seemed to puff upwards. "And of course, the pleasure that comes with greeting the little lady. The orphan elf you took into your care, I assume?"

A derisive snort came from one of the Sin'dorei standing at the back. Isarai couldn't help but take notice of the typical elvish beauty: soft, silver hair that was perfectly clipped and primped into an elaborate up-do, the falling tousles the most delicate of ringlets yet so firm and poised in their hold, barely grazing her creamy shoulders which were left exposed by a halterneck, the collar lacey and gold, exposing the silky skin underneath which curved into two soft mounds, which deepened into a red love heart bust, flowing regally into a floor-length gown, which seemed to flow along the length of her long legs despite there being no breeze. The sleeves were off-shoulder, disguising her frail arms which were held at her front, one hand clasping the other as she looked at the human and the Quel'dorei with a look of disgust. Her nose was pert, her eyes a stunning emerald, and her lips the colour of roses and still as lush even in their sneer. Her chin was as sharp as her gaze. The lavish gold belt tied the outfit together and seemed to cup her dress flatteringly to her slim, slender figure. Isarai inwardly shrivelled, though fought to not show her insecurity in her expression, offering the beautiful elvish woman a look of her own.

"The one and only," Ruthios answered for Isarai, the pride not stifled in his voice as he, too, shot the red-clothed elf a look. "It has been a long time."

"Too long," Valein agreed with a smile, then elaborately dismissed the topic with a wave of his clawed hand. "No matter. Meet your new comrades."

"Comrades?" Isarai whispered, mostly to Ruthios.

"My, it has a tongue after all," The red-clad elf spoke again. Just as expected, her voice was as beautiful and lulling as her apparel.

"A sharp one, when provoked," Ruthios both assured and warned her.

"Then they'll get along _just fine,_ " Valein drawled out with a chuckle. "Now, if we would all like to introduce ourselves, perhaps tell our new friends a little about each other." The Illidari shot the elven mistress an amorous grin, who upturned her nose. "Very well," Valein grunted, and rolled his eyes. "I introduce Lady Dawngrave. She specialises in the research of the dark arts, and is a renowned scryer."

"Renown baby-muncher, more like," A muttered voice emitted, followed by a few select snickers. Isarai looked towards the voice, but merely saw the grumpiest of female orcs, clad in spikes and metal, with her arms folded across her chest and her fists clenched. Isarai looked back to the Valein before she found a way to anger the Orcess.

Lady Dawngrave hissed what Isarai could only presume to be an insult in the Elven tongue she never thought to learn. For this reason, it fell on deaf ears, but even the little Quel'dorei could sense it's malice.

"Play nice, ladies," Valein warned. He looked at the Orc. "You, go."

The Orc sneered from behind her tusks, one of which was chipped. Her skin was a deep grin and littered with scars and slashes, some recent, some visibly old. She held a shortsword and a mace at either flank. Isarai only just noticed the tattoos on the orc's muscular body, poking out through the aspects of her armour. "Karona. Orc. I go smash with my fists, swing a mace, and occasionally jab shit."

She gained a few chuckles, though Ruthios simply tilted his head with curiosity as the other voices spoke up, one by one.

"Chyri Ala'nor," Another elf spoke up, this one soft-spoken with a kind smile, which brought out the dimples in her plump cheeks. She offered a slight nod to everyone gathered. She had choppy, shoulder-length brunette hair with a fringe that she swatted from obscuring one of her eyes. Her skin was tanned and she was clad in beige and black armour that allowed for flexibility rather than protection. She wielded a bow, so Isarai could only assume she was a markswoman of sort. "Farstrider foremost, family disappointment second." Chyri, too, was offered a chuckle or two, though mostly a sneer of Lady Dawngrave's behalf.

A Night elf was next. Her bluish skin and silver eyes made her stand out in the crowd. She was smaller than most Night Elves Isarai had seen, but just as mesmerising. Her eyes were framed with wing-like tattoos, spraying across her temples and dancing just along her cheekbones. Her mane was a deep navy, and tumbled neatly to her hips. Her voice was soft, just like Chyri's, but seemed as warm and welcoming as a mother's lullaby. "Myhlea, here," She offered with a wave of one of her toned arms, causing her clean, white robes to tousle, with a rope-like material clinging the thin material to her body around her waist in a modest fashion. Isarai noticed the material was actually patterned, barely visible with small, silver studs, forming various swirls and curls along the length of the dress, causing her to feel suddenly very underdressed. "I am one of the Sisterhood, but I offer my services as a healer to the public. I often spend most of my time within the infirmaries of Stormwind." Ruthios gave her a respectful nod, then looked onwards.

"Twinkles," a pig-tailed, pink-haired, pixie-like gnome sang out with a chime. "I'm may be short, and I might be stubby, but I can shoot a sparrow _without_ the bow and arrow." The gnome looked at Chyri. "No offence, chicken."

"None taken," The elf assured with a chuckle.

Isarai couldn't help but let her eyes linger on the next elf; of course, his eyes shone with fel, but contrarily seemed soft and warm. His chocolate brown hair cascaded down to the length of his shoulders, choppy in nature. His clothes, like her own, were primarily that of leather, and his shirt loose-fitting and sleeves cuffed. He wore a waistcoat, which made him look scrubbed up despite the faint markings of ink, oil and dirt. His jaw was sharp, coated by a gathering of cropped stubble. He was well built and teetering just at the tall-end of medium height, yet he still likely towered Isarai. His shoulders were broad, perhaps not as broad as the male next to him, but this male seemed catered more to agility and speed than brute strength. His gaze caught Isarai's, causing her to snap her eyes back to the floor as he spoke, his voice, though tinted with the usual of Thalassian gaze, was rougher and Common-laced. Her ears twinged with familiarity. "Avir," He said, his tone smooth and not clear of any decipherable emotion. "I'm not an alcoholic," He reassured. Some chuckles, again. Isarai's brows plucked upwards. "I'm a blacksmith." He spoke simply, concluding with a shrug before looking to the elf at his side.

This one was tall, broad, and the living epitome of _warrior._ For an elf, his muscles bulged and heaved, his broad chest rising with each breath and his body coated with decorative plate. His hair was the colour of gold, intercepted by a singular strand of deep, onyx hair braided into his own, his blonde beard thick with days old stubble. He wore various insignias, and his voice was as stern and grumpy as his expression, his eyes hawk-like. Across his back was a long, big, and presumably very sharp sword. "Anirion Sunstrike. Bloodknight."

Another Night Elf spoke up. He had striking silver hair, blue skin and faintly golden eyes. He was broad and tall, and clothed himself in simple leathers. His smile was warm and his voice deep, though it seemed to melt pleasantly on Isarai's ears. "Hi, I'm Kailen, and I'm a Sentinel of Darnassus. A pleasure to meet you all."His eyes bounced to each individual of the group, and Isarai took notice how he even regarded her, almost surprised to see his smile hold in place for her and the other kin-elves.

"And I am Valein, your fabulous leader!" Valein cackled, then composed himself. "If I do say so myself. Welcome."

"Charmed," Lady Dawngrave said with a kurt roll of her eyes. "Pray tell us why a lady found herself _mandatorily_ having to concede her right to afternoon tea to be introduced to these… people. _Or lack of."_ The noblewoman hissed, barely peeking from the corners of her eyes to the high elf. Isarai grit her teeth.

Valein clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, pointing a fingergun at Lady Dawngrave. _"That_ is a fun story yet to be told! But I'll give you the spoilers, for bein' pretty and all." He grinned, ignoring the pure expression of disgust on her face. He waved his hand out. "You have all been _carefully_ selected to take part in my own personal anti-Legion movement. We may be small, but each of you have been selected for a crucial purpose and skill. We have our own mission and our own victories to uphold in the battle to save Azeroth."

"And what of my deployment back to the Broken Shores?" Anirion questioned with a perk of a slender, golden brow. "And what do the Illidari have to say to this?"

"Oh, they love a good suicide mission," Valein snickered, then looked at Myhlea as her eyes popped open. "I'm _kidding._ Totally kidding. Just don't die, and, y'know… safe. Real safe. Well, not really, but you get the jist of it. Cool beans?"

Myhlea's own brows furrowed inwards, her face a pure look of confusion. "Beans…"

The Illidari brushed himself off. "Speaking of, you should all go and get your provisions packed."

"And if we refuse?" Karona was the next to speak, her yellow-rimmed eyes narrowing into slits. Valein grinned at the challenge, approaching her with his own seedy stare, even without the eyes. He reached up to tousle one of the short braids of her purple hair.

"Well, your superiors will _not_ be happy with your refusal to aid Azeroth in favour of supporting the Legion," Karona glowered. "Of course, I'm aware that is not the case but… why else would you refuse this once in a lifetime gig?"

"Aside from it being the one and only gig, with the risks at stake?" Avir tilted his head, the words slipping off his tongue in a manner that did not come across as challenging, but simply curious.

"Reputation tells me you are one to love a fight, Sunborne." Valein quipped back. "I hope this notion in fact precedes you, as I and the Illidari do not like to be disappointed or made a fool of."

Isarai felt her teeth nibble into her plump lower lip. Ruthios seemed to notice her discomfort, rolling his shoulder in a subtle way to graze the back of his hand against her arm. She looked at him, and he caught her glance. He didn't need to say the words for her to understand. _It will be okay._ She felt herself relax and took a deep, silent breath.

"Now, provisions, everyone! Travel light. Necessity over quantity," Valein's voice rang, waving his hand as a vault opened up in the opposing room, a dim, magical glow exposing what Isarai assumed were portals. The group began to filter out, with Ruthios walking ahead before Isarai. She started to follow, only for Valein to clamp his talon-adorned hand upon her dainty shoulder, causing her to audibly squeak. The group hesitated and turned to face the two.

"You still haven't introduced yourself, Little Lady." The Illidari hummed, tilting his head with a look of intrigue. "And likewise, I was not able to do my research on you. Mr. Blythe keeps you well hidden in that ivory tower."

Isarai could feel the scowl twitch at her lips. All eyes turned on her, causing to feel uncomfortable. She sucked in a breath. "Isarai Blythe."

"Nuh uh," Valein said. "I ain't buyin' that. That's not the name they call you. What is it again?"

Isarai clamped her mouth shut. Luckily, Ruthios spoke in her favour. "Shadowdancer."

"How quaint," Lady Dawngrave mockingly lulled.

"And powerful," Ruthios' added, his tone sharp. He placed his own hand on Isarai's shoulder, reeling her more towards him and away from Valein. The Illidari backed off by lowering his hand and instead folding his burly arms.

"Is that so?" The Illidari's tone was one of interest. "Powerful enough to face the Legion?"

"Impeccably." Ruthios quipped. Isarai's eyes bounced back and forth between the two. She did not take pleasure in being between the two of them.

"Very well," The Demon Hunter smirked, glancing Isarai as the others began to move once more. "I look forward to seeing you in action, _Shadowdancer."_ And with that, the Illidari trailed after the other comrades.

Isarai gave Ruthios a questioning look, but he shook her off. "Come. Those provisions won't pack themselves." She did not fight this, following her mentor's footsteps through to the next room, and through the portal to Stormwind, leaving with as much clue over the situation as they had arrived with.


	2. Chapter 2: The Task at Hand

Isarai's fingers breezed over her bag, working to squish yet another strip of jerky into it's packed confines, before moving on to do the same with Ruthios', which she had taken upon herself to smuggle from his room and make adjustments to. _You can never pack too much jerky,_ she thought to herself, remembering all the occasions where the elder human had been left with dry crackers, only to endlessly complain about the lack of taste.

 _Food._ A man's true weakness. And woman's, in some cases. This train of thought led Isarai to double check the reality and quantity of provisionary chocolate she had stashed to the other side of her satchel. Perhaps not nearly as sweet and tantalising in taste, but preferable to whatever foul, roasted weeds she were likely to consume between rations.

A grimace curled the corners of her lips. She never did like excursions, but at least Ruthios had not tried to fight her into not coming this time. A reason she presumed her mentor to be discussing with whomever it was keeping him company on the lower floor.

She bit into her lower lip as she stared down at the bags. Her ears, which had been lowered in spite of her growing curiosity, began to extend and point upwards until reaching their full glory. The voices below were muffled, but comprehensible for one of elvish descent.

"...was asked for specifically. Surely, you of all people understand that an oath must be upheld." A voice she faintly recognised, striking her with the image of Dr. Vultekt's frail frame. He was an elderly man. Human, naturally, with friendly eyes that faintly reminded Isarai of a puppy dog's. His smile was kind, despite his unusually sharp incisors initially freaking her out. His hair was long, matching to his scraggly grey beard.

"Why now? When this may be our greatest, most dangerous commission yet? I have trained her well, but I cannot abide to an oath I made under the pretension that she would be ready." Ruthios barked back in a less than patient tone. Isarai's ears began to instinctively recoil, before her more curious side simply protruded them right back up.

"Perhaps they would like to see her in action," Dr. Vultekt remarked without missing a beat. A pause followed, his voice lower than before. So low, in fact, Isarai struggled to catch it. " _High time you should, too."_

"And what is that supposed to mean?" She envisioned Ruthios' scowl.

Her ears flickered to the sound muffled footsteps. "Have faith in her, and yourself. You knew this day would come. I fear your brash, albeit protective nature may be the true dereliction at heart."

The Paladin snorted. "And I assume one of your magic pills will cure me of my ailment?"

Dr. Vultekt chuckled. It was rough, and almost came out as a cackle. "If only it were that simple. However, perhaps I can have enough faith for the both of us. Let her prove herself. To you, to her, and to the new King. Where there is unity, there is victory."

Another snort. She heard footsteps once more, only this time, they got louder. Isarai's eyes narrowed in their cat-like manner, her hands hastily finding themselves something of occupation… She snatched up the first thing she could before the door opened, revealing Ruthios', and over his shoulder, Dr. Vultekt.

Isarai peeked over her shoulder and offered the pair the warmest of her smiles. Ruthios didn't seem to buy it, with his brow perked and his expression deadpan as his gaze clapped in on the banana skin in the little high elf's hand. "Eavesdropping again, Isarai?"

The elf owlishly blinked, looking to her hand and the banana peel. She felt her face warm, struggling to fight the blush in her cheeks as her arms snapped themselves into a stroppy fold over her bust. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Evening, Doctor."

"Miss Blythe," Dr. Vultekt shot her a knowing, playful grin, his slightly larger than average teeth grazing into his lower lip. "Gathering your necessities?"

"Just about," She nodded with a confident grin, then moved her arms to fold behind her back in an innocent fashion as she twirled on her bare heels. She did her best to ignore Ruthios' traditional, half-mechanical eye-roll, trying not to be too obvious in her watching of his approach. He reached behind her, prying the banana peel from her hands. He mockingly shook it in her face, causing her to turn her head and upturn her nose.

"Keep this up and you will be sleeping with roaches for pillows." The Paladin grumbled.

"Jokes on you, Knucklehead," Isarai smirked and cocked her hip. "Roaches are good for waste disposal."

"Then you would make awful bunkmates," Ruthios served her back, then gestured for Dr. Vultekt to approach.

"I come baring gifts!" The frail man grinned. It was then that Isarai noticed him holding a large box of sort. Worryingly, Isarai ushered forward to free him of the burden. The old man shot her a feigning look offense. "I'm not decrepit just yet, little madam."

Isarai flashed him an apologetic smile, her hands beginning to lower before Dr. Vultekt plonked the large crate into them. Isarai felt her rump meet the bed, a slight huff escaping her lips as the weight of the box pressed into her tummy and thighs. Even Ruthios showed the faintest glimmer of interest as the little elf pried the crate open, exposing the garments within.

Her two favourite articles of clothing: black and leather. The armour was sporty, yet simple, permitting of flexibility and comfort. However, Isarai very clearly noticed some of the more vulnerable areas of her body were likely to be duel-protected with the forging of mail fortified within the armour. The vestment was elegant, sporting a high-neck collar and with a bodice likely to bind without the risk of undermining her physique. The pants were matching, and the boots within just below knee-length. The armour itself seemed to carry aspects and patterns of sterling silver. Ruthios then placed something else besides Isarai. It was fluffy, and it looked remarkably cozy and warm.

A cloak, jet black in colour. Isarai took notice as she threaded the material between her fingers that only the underside of the cloak was lined with fur, with the exterior smooth and silk-like. It was hooded, but felt remarkably light-weighted for a cloak of it's type. And best of all, it would match to her armour. She felt a smile light up her features.

Before she could speak a word, the doctor raised his hand. "A gesture of goodwill," he stated. "I require no thanks from one of the finest of Azeroth's saviours."

"You say that now…" Isarai snickered, then tilted her head. "But no. Truly, this is a remarkable set. And this is a remarkable cloak." She offered her mentor the same pleasant smile.

Ruthios shrugged, then looked to Dr. Vultekt. "We have things to discuss, and you need to rest." Isarai knew the statement was intended for her. She smirked, and in an effort to not embarrass her mentor, ducked her head into another thankful nod and lowered her gaze. She felt the Doctor run his hand through her platinum locks, resting at her chin. Her lashes fluttered ashut as he murmured what could only be an ancient prayer, before making his retreat after the Paladin.

"When do we leave?" She hollered just before he could shut the door.

His response was curt. "Tomorrow." And with that, Isarai was left with her new armour, her temporary solitude, and a full length mirror. With the excitement brewing inside of her, she coerced herself into waiting until morning, for Ruthios was right. She would need rest.

She carefully lowered the crate to her bedside, draping the cloak neatly over her arm, folding it once before settling it atop of the box. She tucked a long strand of fallen hair behind a pert ear as she turned to focus back on the task at hand: getting more chocolate in these bastard packs.


	3. Chapter 3: The Miracle

The bittersweet air tousled through Isarai's platinum locks, a select few strands freeing themselves from the catch of her ear, drifting across her anxiously-held features with the gentlest of touchest. It carried the scent of the various blossoms that could be found throughout the Pandarian nation, and helped to soothe her bundling nerves as the two wandered down the narrow path and to the training guards where Valein had instructed they meet.

Isarai's eyes lovingly scouted the various plants and flowers sprouting up into life from the lush, emerald earth. Various hues of reds, pinks and even oranges could be spotted. Her fingers twitched, only to tighten around the strap of her satchel, unnecessarily securing it more to her person despite being strapped across her body.

"Ah, friends!" Valein's voice chimed out from the entrance of the grounds. His smile was friendly enough, matching to his tone, even despite his unnaturally sharp teeth. "Come, join us. We merely wait for Master Sunborne and Lady Ala'nor."

He guided the two into the cobbled grounds. The familiar faces the duo had met also stood gathered. Isarai felt her ears prick as the striking silver beauty she recalled to be Myhlea greeted her with a smile. She allowed herself to return the notion.

"Feel free to talk amongst yourselves," Valein hummed, and began to walk back. "I'll keep a look-out for our stragglers."

Ruthios grunted, planting his feet firmly in the ground and initiated staring onwards. Isarai tilted her head to peek up at him, her brow arched. She couldn't help but fidget on her feet as a momentary silence of sheer awkwardness followed, with the members of the group either staring at one another, or nothing at all. She tried to ignore Lady Dawngrave looking figuratively as well as literally down at her as the little elf accidently took place besides her in the formation, her malice radiating. Isarai refused to let herself expose the effects, standing as tall as she could with her chin up and gaze head on. Her body was stiff and tense, almost half expecting a lashing from the empowering vixen.

Isarai's eyes caught Myhlea's again, her smile still in place. "Your first time?" The Kal'dorei asked with the same motherly song.

Isarai nodded her head, daring not to speak for fear her nerves would show. Myhlea offered her a sympathetic smile. "Mine, too. I have to say, I'm a little nervous for what this Illidari has in store for us."

The male Kal'dorei looked in the direction of his sister-kin, his snow-white hair glimmering in the afternoon sun. Isarai found herself wanting to touch it, to judge whether it would be soft or course in comparison to her own. "I believe you have trained well. I'm not going to fall for the fact that you are simply a Sister of Elune, Myhlea." He shot her a grin, to which she returned with an innocent bat of her lashes.

"Will we ever know?" She teased, then turned her attention back to Isarai. "Forgive me if I'm being brash, but I have not seen one of your kind in quite some time. Where do you reside?"

"Stormwind," Ruthios answered, teetering on the edge of stranger-danger.

"Together?"

Ruthios offered Myhlea a singular nod in response.

Lady Dawngrave visibly repelled, a sound of repulse coming from her throat. "What are you? Impotent as well as a Windrunner?"

Twinkles tilted her head. "Ain't she technically, like, your Queen?" The pink-haired Gnome inquired in a soprano.

"Warchief," Karona corrected without looking at the group. Her tone and face did little to convey any sort of emotion.

"She is no Queen of mine," Lady Dawngrave seethed, her eyes prowling once more to the Quel'dorei at her flank. "Particularly if she were to copulate with humans."

Isarai mimicked her look of disgust, not yet noticing the Illidari return with Avir and Chyri as she piped up. "He's a father to me. Just because you were the result of inbreeding does not mean the rest of us follow the same practice."

Ruthios' could not help but smirk, an expression Kailen had to fight to resist. Myhlea's eyes popped open in surprise, while the Orcess snorted, and the gnome downright cackled. Chyri merely looked on in perplex at the group, a concerned gaze monitoring the mutual glower between Isarai and the Lady. Avir, too, shared a glance, his brows beginning to unfurrow as realisation softened his features, and he began to smirk.

Valein stared deadpan at Isarai. Then pointed at her with a finger. "You," Isarai looked at him, her ears beginning to lower. "You're up."

"What?" Isarai blinked in confusion.

Valein pointed to the grounds. "I want to see you channel that same spunk on the field."

Lady Dawngrave began to move forward, only for Valein to halt her with the extension of his clawed arm. "That's not how it works, Lady."

The elfess recoiled, wrinkling her nose with repulsion. "And why ever not? Is it not custom to settle disputes in this manner?"

"That's not how it works because _I_ choose," The Illidari bragged with a grin. He pointed at the Blood Knight. Isarai forgot his name. "How would you like to defend a lady's honour, Sunstrike?"

Anirion grunted, moving with a soft clank of his armour into the grounds. He didn't bother to wait for Isarai to join him before his sword was unsheathed, balancing it between his fingers until finding an adequate grip. He looked at the high elf with impatience.

Ruthios gently clapped Isarai on the shoulder, initiating the touch of comfort into a half-shove. The elf finally found her feet, standing opposing the elf, looking half-dazed, half fearful. She snapped her gaze unsurely to Anirion.

"Begin!"

"B-" Isarai wanted to call out her hesitancy, but the Blood Knight was approaching her with the brutality of an Orc. He swung his sword, trying to bash the hilt into her temple. The little elf used her dainty size to her advantage, nimbly ducking his arm, twirling on her feet until situated behind him. Anirion's brows furrowed, never having of expected her to be so quick.

Isarai knew she had to retaliate before he could get another swing in. She unsheathed her daggers, sending her own hilt into the small of his back, hurting him even through the armour. The Blood Knight yelped in a mixture of pain and surprise, staggering forward. His lips formed into a sneer, half-growls half-pants escaping him, clearly infuriated at having of been bested by a high elf. He span, his sword following the movement with a swish through the air. Isarai ducked before he had the chance to take a few inches off of her pert ears, narrowly deflecting the sweep. Isarai used her dagger hilts to balance her weight against the ground as she shot a leg out in an attempt to physically sweep the male off of his feet, but her foot simply met his plated one, doing little to knock him out of balance.

Anirion trudged forward, trying to bash his knee into the little elf's face, however, she forced her body into a clumsy, backwards half-roll, managing to gather some space between the two, biding time to hop back upon her feet. She swung one of her blades, aiming for a diagonal slash from his shoulder to his hip.

The Knight brought his sword up, expertly parrying her attempts. Sweat had began to form on his forehead, which had also gathered a few creases of irritation as the little elf kept on evading him. He sought to throw the elf back with sheer strength alone, but she grit her teeth with a might she thought not possible, managing to hold her ground long enough to dance to the side, causing Anirion to use his own strength against him as he comically fell face-first into the dirt.

"Fhoooo," Twinkles hissed the air through her pert mouth, while a few other spectators winced.

To add insult to injury, Isarai rewarded Anirion a firm kick with the cap of her boot in the jaw. His head recoiled and blood began to pour from his dirt-coated lips and down his chin.

"Oh shit!" The gnome yelped as her spirit was egged on through the fight. The Orcess shared a mutual interest, her eyes keenly focused on Isarai and the fallen Knight at the elf's feet.

"Two hits," Valein called out to remind the sparring duo. "In the Little Lady's favour! Once more and you're out, Sunstrike."

"Enough!" The Paladin snarled, throwing his hand out in an attempt to throw and pierce his blade into the elf from the ground. She lunged to the side with evasion, causing the blood elf to emit a guttural roar of fury.

Isarai quickly tries to serve the man another kick, but his large fingers clasp around her ankle with ease. Her eyes began to narrow and the breath hitched itself in her throat as the panic spread in her body at the foolishness in her display. Anirion used this to his advantage, using one of his legs to knock the elf's only standing one, causing Isarai to fall and bash her head into the ground.

Isarai tried to squirm away as the elf collected himself, only to drag her right back and clamber on top of her. He grappled her throat, lifting her head up off the dirt, only to forcefully ground it back in. Dazed, Isarai found herself too weak to knock the elf off of her.

"Anyone's game!" Valein called, barely jostling Isarai out of the haze. In a latch ditch effort, Isarai tries to snap her knee up to catch Anirion in the nethers. Instinctively, the male protected his jewels by applying too much weight to the female beneath him, knocking the breath out of her.

Choking, Isarai kicked, thrashed and scratched her nails at the Blood Knight's wrist, but her efforts were futile. Her eyes started to bulge.

"Enough," Ruthios instructs. The group watch on, with Myhlea and Chyri showing a deep look of concern. Lady Dawngrave seemed smug, her bright eyes ablaze as she watched the spectacle unfold. Kailen had began to approach when the elf showed no sign of stopping. Anirion stared down at Isarai with a sinister apparel, his fel eyes flaming and his dirty face hatred-ridden.

"You belong there," He spat, before sending a fist to her jaw. Isarai's head smacked into the ground with a thud, and with Anirion's shadow looming over her, she was certain he was coming for more.

"ENOUGH!" Ruthios roared, and Myhlea sent a bright white light throughout the grounds, blinding all.

A second later, Isarai felt herself being hoisted. With the return of her vision, albeit still blurry, she could faintly make out a weight behind her, keeping her upper half hoisted up. In front of her stood Ruthios, craning his neck in an effort to be as imposing as Anirion.

" _Three_ hits," her mentor reminded him with a scowl. Anirion showed disinterest as he hobbled back to the group, causing Lady Dawngrave to pout.

A soft voice coo'd in Isarai's ears, feminine and comforting in it's chant. A hand was placed to her head and a soothing surge of warmth danced along her body, causing her to gasp and goosebumps to emerge as the pain simmered, until nothing but a dim ache.

"She may have a slight concussion, but she's okay," Myhlea's voice rang, and she halted the healing after a few long moments.

Isarai rapidly blinked, reaching up to rub at her eyes. "Ugh…" _Great. I begin the mission with a botched head and a wicked migraine…_

Her wrist was clutched, with Ruthios hoisting her to her feet. Valein observed the two with a nod. "Not bad. Not bad at all. He pointed at Myhlea. "You're up. Sunborne, join her."

Myhlea and Avir did as instructed, and began to fight. Isarai tried to observe them through the daze, and a few times throughout the fight found her feet beginning to give way. Ruthios allowed her to bare her weight against him, ready to catch her should she fall. He, too, watched the fight.

From what Isarai could decipher, both Myhlea and Avir showed dexterity, agility and speed. Myhlea preferred to use blinding and astral Light projections to blast her enemies back and maintain space between herself and foe, while Avir, dual-wielding short swords, preferred to tire out his opponent before dispatching them, and had been almost toying with Myhlea for the past three minutes. Fortunately, even with with her loss, Myhlea was a good sport.

Chyri and Kailen were up next. As their own respected types of rangers, they were able to recognise and deflect each other's moves, proving to be very equal opponents. They wrestled for some time, coming to a point where, in good nature, they were both frolicking in the dirt, trying any and every little dirty trick to throw the other off guard. Through the long haul, the fight was in Kailen's favour.

The gnome and the Orcess was up next. Twinkles proved to be challenging despite Karona's brute strength. Quick on her feet and far too nimble to truly land a hit one, Twinkles danced and hopped about the grounds, mocking and infuriating the Orc more than Isarai would ever dare. It wasn't until Karona threw her mace and bonked the little gnome on the head that Twinkles realised she should stop mocking her, ceasing to make the Orc dance with her bullets. Bitterly, Karona stomped away from the Gnome's victory, who waddled after her. "Oh, c'mon! Best two outta three? Drawsies?"

Karona grunted, claiming her initial spot. She folded her arms and proceeded to ignore the bouncy gnome.

Valein craned his neck until it popped, retrieving the glaive from his back "My turn," He approached a rather bored looking Lady Dawngrave, bowing before her. He extended a clawed hand to her in offer. "Would you care to dance, milady?"

The beauty scowled, rejecting his hand. However, she made her way out to the grounds. Her red and black robes billowed with her movements, emphasising and complimenting her slender physique. Isarai had no doubt that her dress was enchanted in some way to further serve a purpose in battle.

The duo move to face one another in the square. The Illidari took to a battle-stance, while Lady Dawngrave stood and stared. She offered the male a pitiful expression, before a mere twist of her wrist occured, a wordless chant escaping her mouth. Valein twitched, shaking off what Isarai presumed to be an invisible attack of sorts.

Valein charged forth, his glaive twirling in his grip before the jagged point snares itself across the Lady's thigh, causing the fabric to tear and her smooth, unblemished skin to be tainted crimson. Her body quivered as the pain flared, a sick grin curling her rouge coated lips. She sported a slight limp as the Lady shifted her weight, muttering a curse of sorts. The Illidari dropped to his knees as his body contorted in pain, a ragged growl parting his lips. The Lady curiously tilted her head, taking a moment to admire the sight.

Valein fought to tear himself from the she-devil's mental grip, his fingers desperately twitching in find of his glaive as an intense burn trickled through his veins. In order to not be spotted, he watched as the woman could not help but get a closer look at her work, and in the momentary distraction, rammed his horns right into her abdomen.

Lady Dawngrave let out a half-grunt, half-moan, her laughter made breathless as she found herself winded. Hastily, her hand snapped up to clamp itself against the Illidari's head, but she was shook off before another curse could burden him. He tried yet again to ram her back as his hand finally clutches the glaive, but she proved to be quick. The Lady swayed back, raining forth orbs of yellowish-green fire, to which the Illidari used his glaive as a deflector.

He is too slow to prepare, and the Lady is keen to neglect the rule of turn-taking. She summoned an orb, with a no less than unholy glow, lunging it to Valein. It impacted him on the nude chest, sending his scaled body hurtling through the air and to the ground with a thud. She tuts, her pitiful expression making a return.

Valein stumbles to his feet, using his demonic speed to charge her. The Lady proving to be almost as quick as she hops to the side, her eyes ablaze with the fun of the hunt. The ground crackled and fel spurts out from beneath the Illidari's feet, yet he remains unaffected, almost welcoming the burn. He charges forth again, this time quicker, and stronger, until his body collides with the Lady's.

The two meet the furthest wall with great speed, knocking the Lady both ways. The air leaves her body, the collision hindering her fellish euphoria with a surge of pain. Her body contorts against the Illidari's, who curses at the fact he chose to not go commando that day, feeling her womanhood warm against his tummy as his body moulds into hers. Valein could've swore she purred in response to his presence and the impact, as her legs draped against either side of his waist from the charge. Teasingly, and before the dust could settle and reveal their nature to the spectators, the Illidari growled into the crane of her neck, sending shivers down her spine and to her groin. She rotated her hips, but he withdrew, letting the woman fall to the ground.

She scowled. Unimpressed that her allure refused to catch the Illidari off guard. She felt a challenge spike in her core, despite the raging ache that resided within her likely bruised abdomen. The Illidari offered her a hand, to which she ignored. She got to her feet and dusted herself off, while also not allowing herself to respond or look in the direction of the impressed spectators. Even the night elven priest who's name she had not bothered to memorise began to approach, she sneered and waved dismissively at.

"Good fight," Valein amended.

"Take your condolences elsewhere, demon," The Lady spat, earning herself a grin in Valein's behalf.

He looked to the rest of the group, clapping once his glaive was set aside. "I have to say, you have all proved yourself as momentous and skilled in combat. I have faith my choices were the right ones."

"Is he not going to prove himself?" The Lady's bark caused the others to look in the direction of Ruthios, who still kept Isarai supported against himself. He showed willingness, as his hand went to his sword, only for Valein to object and hold his hand palm-up.

"It is not necessary," The demon-hunter smirked. "We have fought together on the fields of war in a past life. He is as prestigious as Knights come."

Isarai felt her curiosity prickle, while Ruthios kept one arm around her, and the other upon the hilt of his blade. She began to formulate a plan to get him alone.

"S'there a watering hole round here or what?" Karona's voice dripped with boredom.

"Drinks! A brilliant plan before our voyage." Valein grinned. "I think I'm gonna like you, Karoki."

Her voice was curt. "Karona."

"That's what I said," Valein dismissed the Orc, and gestured for the group to follow. "Come, come! Food, tales and an abundance of ales!" A cackle followed, only on the Illidari's own behalf.

Ruthios allowed Isarai to test her feet, and upon finding herself stable, released her to walk ahead. She began to wander after him. It was not long until the night elf at her heels, Myhlea, caught up with her, her smile friendly as ever. "How are you fairing, Miss Blythe?"

"My head is on the brink of imploding," Isarai answered with honesty, then backtracked with a more confident tone. "It's fine."

Myhlea's smile grew, and she nodded. "I have no doubts about that. You fought well." Isarai responded with a hum that was meant to be interpreted as 'you too', turning away, and it was just as well she did, as what the handsome Sin'dorei next to her had to say made her cheeks redden.

"We should dance sometime, blue-eyes." Isarai sucked in a breath at Avir's comment, the grin was evident in his flirtatious tone.

Ruthios glowered over his shoulder. "The only dancing we are here to do will be with a blade in hand, puncturing a demon's throat."

Avir quietened, his grin still in place as he offered the human male a salute. Ruthios grunted, shooting Isarai a quizzical look before focusing his attention back on the path to the tavern. He internally praised the Light for the miracle that was alcohol.


	4. Chapter 4: Rejection

The cool bartop felt relatively soothing against the sharp ache in her temple. Isarai kept her sensitive eyes shut, despite the hazy, warm glow of the tavern not being excessively bright. She felt the growing urge to sleep…

"I wouldn't put my head there if I were you," Ruthios' stern voice rang, causing Isarai to peel her eyes open. The human sat down next to her, sliding a mug her way.

"Drinking isn't advised either," Isarai chastised, using the back of her gloved hand to rub against her cheek, bidding any bar-borne stickiness away. There was none, but she didn't want to run the risk.

Ruthios shrugged as he went to take a sip. "Who said yours was alcoholic?" Isarai pouted, causing the human to smirk. "One of the many great things about Pandaria is that even the brews possess healing qualities. Try it."

Isarai curled her fingers around the mug, taking a timid sip. The brew was frothy, but refreshingly cool on her tongue. She clamped her lips together as the taste of honey trickled in her mouth and down her throat as she drank. The effects were not immediate, but at least the thirst she never knew she had was quenched. She drank some more.

"Slow down," Ruthios grunted. Isarai did as instructed, plonking the mug down with it still being held in her hand. She took a long look around the tavern. It was so different to the taverns she had been to in her homeland, or Ruthios' homeland, rather. The earthen scent of bamboo mixed with the airy blossom breeze filled the tavern, with not a single drip of alcohol traceable, making the watering hole especially pleasant.

It was not long before the duo's momentary silence was interrupted, as Valein made his way up to clap a firm hand on Ruthios' shoulder. He shuddered at his proximity, which had long since been made worse with the additional factor of fel since the two last met.

Valein flashed an apologetic smile. "If you would be so kind to join me? It appears Lady Dawngrave would like to discuss something with the two of us." His eyes slinked to Isarai, who pretended not to notice by looking back down into her frothy mug.

Ruthios' emitted another grunt. He nudged his foot into Isarai's, his greying-brown brow arching. Isarai angled her chin ever so slightly towards him, her smile faint as her head gently bobbed into the faintest of nods. _I'll be fine_.

He seemed to understand, his voice a grumble. "Very well, let us hope she has something of worth to say." Ruthios got to his feet, at the same time his hands worked to ensure his weapons were securely on his person. "Lead on."

Valein turned on his heels and trotted out the way they had came. Isarai tried not to watch Ruthios go, a sudden bundle of nerves twisting her stomach. She tried to relax herself by taking a deep breath, her eyes beginning to close as she worked to unwind herself…

Until she realised her blades were not in their sheathes.

Her eyes snapped open, while at the same instant her palms smacked into her hips. Her blades were not there.

" _Fuck,_ " she cursed. The little elf practically danced up onto her feet, stumble-turning. She was met with a hard exterior, and for a moment Isarai swore that there had not been a wall there.

This wall curved a hand around the small of Isarai's back to steady her as she staggered. It _chuckled._ The sound was smooth and coaxing. It was then that Isarai realised this was no wall, but simply Avir.

She recoiled, her fingers splaying themselves to catch her before she could tumble over the bar, too, staring up at Avir with a doe-eyed expression. She parted her lips to spit an apology, her eyes flickering to the entrance, desperate to get to her weapons before Ruthios could notice. She _really_ did not want to do fifty sit-ups with an audience.

Avir shot a hand up to pause her, his other clasping something of familiarity. "You dropped these."

Her daggers. Isarai relaxed, her lips opening to compensate a sigh of relief as Avir offered them to her, which she accepted. She peeked back up at him through her lashes, her voice but a murmur.

"Thank you."

The elf shrugged. "We wouldn't get very far without them, would we?"

Isarai's brow plucked as she couldn't help herself, biting the bait. "We?"

He grinned at his success of an ice-breaker. "Well, you're part of the team, no? We can't advance without you, and you can't advance into a suicide mission without your weaponry."

"When you put it that way you make me wish I had stayed home." Isarai muttered, looking down to make sure the daggers were in fact hers, and in pristine condition. She slid them into their respective sheathes.

"Where is home?"

Isarai frowned. She didn't want to get into this again. "Is it not obvious?" Her tone came off as somewhat harsher than she intended.

Avir reached up to scratch the back of his neck, perplexed by her defensive reaction. "Well, I'm aware it would not be in Horde territory…"

Isarai sighed. She closed her eyes. "Sorry. I'm just… a little tired of that question."

"It can't be easy," Avir's lips tugged into a reassuring smile, he moved to sit upon the stool next to Isarai. Reluctantly, she returned to her own. "Can't say I'm not curious about your choice, either. From what I can gather, it seems to be a pretty isolated lifestyle."

"I didn't choose." Isarai murmured, her voice raising as she continued. "And my lifestyle is not isolated."

"With your human friend?" Avir tilted his head.

"Blood elves carry stigma, too." Isarai quipped, earning herself a grin in Avir's favour.

"Moot point." Avir noticed how Isarai's eyes dipped back to her drink, seeming withdrawn. "It doesn't bother me, if that is what you're wondering."

Isara responded without looking up. "I find that hard to believe with it being the centerpiece of our interaction. Twice."

"Then let's talk about something else," he encouraged, his tone soft. He nudged his foot out to brush Isarai's ankle, trying to get her attention. She rolled her eyes up at him in waiting. "We haven't even been properly introduced."

She sniffed. "We did introductions."

"You really want me to refer to you as _Shadowdancer?_ I don't even understand the origin, though I'm going to assume that's not up to debate?" Isarai couldn't help but smirk. She dipped her head as she shook it, her hair creating a veil between the two that somewhat kept her amusement, or any general emotion, hidden from the alluring male. "Thought not." He hummed, then struck his hand out for a shake. Isarai peeked at him again, slowly extending her own out to clasp his. "Avir Sunborne."

"Isarai Blythe."

"Pretty," he nodded. Isarai rolled her eyes. "I was half expecting a human name, like Janet."

"Do I look like a Janet?" Isarai arched a silvery brow.

"No." Avir tilted his head and squinted. "Though, I can see a bit of Beatrice in you."

"Gee, thanks…" Isarai drawled, then looked away to her mug. She took a timid sip.

Avir's fingers twitched, catching a glimmer of the bruise located at her temple, slightly obscured by her fallen blonde hair. He restricted the temptation to brush the strands away with his fingertips. The nature innocent enough in wanting to get a better look at the bruise, but he assumed she would not be comfortable with his physical touch. "How's your head?"

She opened her mouth, only to realise that the brew had began to take effect. She reached up to timidly caress the bruise with her fingertips. "Not throbbing nearly as much as it had been."

"It'll do that," he regarded the brew with a nod. "Impressive, really. The lengths the Pandaren go to with their brews."

"In comparison to trolls with their frog and snake squeezing…" She added, and was rewarded with another grin. Isarai found herself smiling back.

"But really, it is impressive. Their devotion, their ability, their sheer knowledge… I suppose by making it culturally applicable, they have ensured their mastership of brewery has exceeded through the generations."

"It worked." She agreed, reminding herself to take another sip of her drink.

Avir continued. "What's most impressive, to me, is their methods of alchemical practices. Sure, they gather the herbs, mix it all up and serve it on a bamboo platter, but maintaining the potency of the healing properties is a feat not many can hack with ease."

Isarai's eyes sparkled with interest. "I thought you were a blacksmith, not an alchemist?"

He shrugged. "I dabble."

"I'd have loved to study alchemy…" Isarai hummed.

Avir raised his dark brows. "What's stopping you?"

She raised her hand in a 'look around' gesture. "Oh, you know Demonic invasions, raging lunatics seeking world domination or mass destruction."

"Same old, then?" The two shared a scoff.

"When this is over, you should go on to study." Avir backtracked, only to be met with a shrug.

"I'm sure some other epidemic or global crisis will spring up by then." She chirped in a casual, _what's the point_ manner.

Avir shook his head. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Alchemy is good for more than just curing a headache. Those daggers could become lethal with just the right poison."

"How do you know they're not poisoned already?" She challenged with another arch of her brow.

"I'd be dead already," He grinned, amused by her sudden look of confusion. "I used one to cut up an apple on the way here." He teased with a shrug.

Isarai's eyes rolled on their own accord. "You're lucky. You used the poison-free one."

Avir snorted, his expression neutralising as another approached them. Isarai's eyebrows knitted closer together, spotting the slight irritability in the male's eyes. It was then she noticed the one who approached was another male, only night elven.

Kailen didn't seem to notice, greeting the two with a smile. "Our gnomish friend has a game to play, and Myhlea suggested extending the offer, if you two would like to join us?"

Isarai couldn't help but be curious. Her brows raised and her head tilted, much like an intrigued pup. "A game?"

Kailen shrugged. "No clue, but she's reeled out a stack of cards with… some questionable text on them."

Avir looked at Isarai, the hint alone itself clear that he would not be going anywhere if she didn't accept the offer. Half-curious, and half-raging with the nerves of having Avir's full attention on her, she began to stand.

The gnome's voice rang out above the crowd. "You're gonna need some oil!"

Isarai blinked. "Alcohol," Kailen explained, as if he had already been through this once before. "I'll get these." He offered, flashing the two a smile, while Avir had began to move to where their group of comrades were sitting. He halted, looking over his shoulder to her with a questionable gaze. She pointed at Kailen and the drinks.

"No offence intended," she began. "But I prefer to watch my drinks as they're prepared and served."

"Smart," Kailen acknowledged, with clearly no offence taken. Avir's brows plucked, though he saw the logic as he nodded and wandered off to the group.

Isarai stood awkwardly by Kailen's side as he waited to be served. He didn't seem to mind being watched, or her company for that matter. His posture was relaxed, and the silence allowed Isarai to observe his features up close. His silver hair still desired to be touched, despite it's unruliness, his brows were thick and he had the slightest silver stubble beginning to gather along his stern jawline. His cheeks were somewhat hollow, exposing a rather defined bone structure, but his lips were full and friendly, and his eyes warm, big and child-like. His stature, as imposing as most elves, carried itself in a manner that was not intended as threatening, but calming, despite the armour. He had since shed his shoulderguards, gloves and tunic, however, looking quite content in a thin, off-white, sleeveless top, which left his muscular arms exposed.

Finally, the drinks came. Kailen took care to carry the large platter, gesturing with a smile for Isarai to follow. They approached the group, who had taken refuge around one of the larger tables rather than being dispersed throughout the tavern. Among was Myhlea, who shot Isarai a welcoming smile and shuffled closer to Chyri, who resided next to her, in order to make space. Isarai accepted the offer, trying hard not to look at the company to her left, who was, just her luck, the grumpy Orcess, Karona. Next to her, Kailen, followed by Twinkles and Avir. Isarai felt somewhat relaxed that Anirion and Lady Dawngrave had made themselves scarce.

The six observed as Twinkles dispersed the cards in long, even rows along the table. To say their print was questionable was an understatement, as she managed to catch a glance of a few before they were properly placed down.

 _An embarrassing act._

 _A childhood crush._

 _Favourite position._

The last one made Isarai internally fidget. She wanted to distract herself with a sip of the drink Kailen distributed out, but felt she may need it and did not want to render herself too intoxicated with having to buy a third during the game. She waited.

"The rules?" Karona asked once the cards were all set out.

Twinkles chuckled, and reached over to flip two cards over. "I'll go first, to demonstrate…"

* * *

"This had better be an urgent matter," Ruthios directed at no one in particular, his eyes snapping between Anirion Sunstrike and Lady Dawngrave. Valein stood off to the side, admiring a nearby blossom tree from their gathering on the path outside of the tavern. Then he realised he couldn't actually _see_ the tree in it's physical form, and looked back to the trio.

"You may be open to working with traitorous runts, but I am not." Lady Dawngrave started off keen.

Ruthios felt his nostrils flare with annoyance, but he composed himself. "I don't quite understand."

"Well, that is no surprise." The Lady huffed with a roll of her eyes.

Ruthios drew in a breath. "It is times like this where we must shed our prejudices and swallow our pride, for the survival of our brethren, and the protection of our families. To do so, grievances must be buried, and allegiances put in their place."

"Hear, hear," Valein agreed. "After all, you are standing with an Illidari, yet you have no complaints there."

"That is a different matter," She hissed. Anirion grit his teeth to not speak in that regard, even when Lady Dawngrave shot him a look. "I'm sure Sunstrike agrees with me."

His tone was reluctant. "The human has a point." The Lady glowered, and he shot a hand up to silence her. "By no means am I agreeable to working with humans, Quel'dorei, or demons." Valein flashed him a toothy grin. "But this is a joint effort to uphold our nation's survival. Something, unfortunately, we cannot do alone."

"This is ludicrous," The Lady growled. "You fools! If this is truly to do with our survival, then why not send for those of experience and skill? I could enlist the aid of several of the finest Magistrix's in Dalaran and Silvermoon combined!"

Valein shrugged. "Hey, I got a list with a bunch of folk to choose from. Your best pal was on there, just like you and everyone else here."

The Lady clenched her fists at her side, losing all composure as her voice rang with malice. "And what is her purpose? She holds no power."

"Maybe power is not where her skill lies." Valein interjected.

"And what of you? You assume with her being under _your_ wing, that she is a superior option to a renown Magistrix? A trained veteran? You expect me to have trust in this human I have never even heard of?" The Lady sneered in Ruthios' direction.

Ruthios glanced at the two men, and shrugged as he looked back to the Lady, who seemed to be on the verge of wanting to riddle him into nothing more than ashes. "It appears to be only _you_ with these concerns, Lady Dawngrave. Concerns which I cannot take into account not due to my personal relations, but your absurdity. Your worries are the birth of arrogance and resentment. Do not discuss this matter with me again unless you have actual reason to your claims, then we'll talk."

He stood his ground as he concluded, his chin raised and his eyes emotionless. The Lady quivered, her fists clenching and unclenching. She grit her teeth as she fought a primitive, feral urge, biting back the curse on her scarlet lips, which soon twisted into a malicious half-smile, half-sneer.

"Very well," she snapped, and stamped her way in the opposing direction to the tavern. Anirion shook his head and began to return to the tavern, leaving Ruthios and Valein alone. The latter offered yet another toothy grin.

"I assume you are not done with me?" The human gave Valein a quizzical grin, to which he shrugged.

"Not quite, but it can wait. We have our own grievances to bury, but I would hate to see these enchanting forests go up in smoke with the Lady's fury." The Illidari explained with a smooth, coyness to his voice.

"Consider them buried," The Paladin muttered, beginning to turn.

"That easily?"

"That easily." Ruthios confirmed, having only paused his turn for a split second.

"If you are sure, _friend._ " Valein chuckled with his teasing, demonic nature. Ruthios ignored him, but decided it would not be best to return to the tavern in the mood he was in. He looked off at a dwindling path that spiralled up the lush hillside, deciding to scout for a nearby camping spot. He knew Isarai would not find comfort sleeping in a crowded tavern, no matter how secure the locks were.

* * *

Isarai plucked two cards up from the table. Some had been matched, and others were still a mystery, but she was the _only_ one without a single match and already she could feel the alcohol plaguing her mind, making her vision fuzzy and her words slur. On the plus side, she had shed herself of her sociable shield, and actually found herself having fun playing the ridiculous card game Twinkles introduced her to, the goal being that to match up a pair of cards from the deck in the table, with a mismatch forcing the loser to take not only a drink, but admit to one of the embarrassing statements on the back of one of the two cards.

She flipped the cards over in a dramatic reveal, only to be disheartened at another mismatch. The crowd around her boasted, laughed, and let out an orchestra of " _Oooh!_ "'s.

"Oh', c'mon!" Isarai boldly complained, throwing the cards down to cup her head in shame.

"You ain't very good at this, Shadowlady." The gnome cackled, clearly enjoying the blue-eyed elf's misfortune. "Drink up and tell a tale!"

Isarai sighed and looked at her options. " _What would I do if I were the opposite sex for a month_ , or _the silliest thing I have an emotional attachment to_?" Neither were good for her, personally. And she did not want her comrades to know of the unicorn plushie stuffed deep within her satchel. She shrugged. "I guess if I were a guy I'd be able to be more ignorant without social blame." Kailen and Avir feigned looks of offense.

"And be lazy," Myhlea teased with a drunken slur of her own.

"I'd write my name in the snow, using my pee." Twinkles confidently nodded.

Karona shrugged. "I'd jack off."

"You do that anyway, probably," Twinkles snickered. Karona offered no response, other than that of a drink of her mug. "C'mon, Shadow. You're a dude for a whole month. What do you do?"

Isarai thought hard, furrowing her brows. "I'm…" she hesitated, tilting her head as her thoughts clouded. "I mean, it would be similar, would it not? I'd wake up, and face any other Azerothian day? I'd just do it all in the life of a man."

"Boring!" Twinkles exclaimed, then looked at Myhlea. "Your go."

Myhlea poked her tongue out in concentration, a bluish hand trickling over various cards before finally selecting one, and then another. "Rats!" She huffed, pouting just like Isarai had. Chyri's brow plucked with confusion she caught a glance at the text of the cards. Whatever they were, they made Myhlea's blue cheeks turn a deep crimsom. "Oh no…"

"What?" Twinkles asked with excitement, leaning closer with narrow eyes.

"They are not that bad…" Chyri mewled with reassurance.

Myhlea put her head into her hands, her voice muffled as her navy hair shielded her blush from view. " _The meanest thing I have ever done to someone,_ or _My First Kiss."_

Isarai found herself agreeing with Chyri. "I'd be happy with those options."

"What, in comparison to peeing in a watering can which was later used, or getting an infection in your toe from being bitten by a chicken?" Avir grinned, as Twinkles and Kailen snickered amongst themselves.

Isarai furrowed her brows. "Least my turn-ons aren't ogre-kobold hybrids." Karona backed her up by snorting. Isarai had began to feel a little more comfortable with her presence, since the two of them both seemed more relaxed with alcohol in their blood.

"It was a dream!" He drunkenly defended, but the play was evident in his voice.

"A wet one, judging by the sounds of it." The Orcess quipped.

"A man cannot choose his preferences," Kailen coo'd, earning himself a glower from Avir.

"You're supposed to be defending me here, man." The blood elf grumbled.

Kailen shrugged. "My bad."

Myhlea resumed hiding, hoping that the topic has strayed too far for their drunken minds. Regretfully, Chyri nudged Myhlea's arm. "Go on, we haven't forgotten about you."

Myhlea whined, her hands moving over to shield her wing-framed eyes. "In my youth, a friend of mine had decorated her sandals with intricate, sparkly butterflies. She had stuck them on and stated that she was now the _the Princess of the Faeries,_ and that I could only refer to her as Princess, or her Majesty. I was infuriated…"

"And?" Twinkles tilted her head.

"I…" Myhlea paused, reluctant. She groaned again, and ducked even lower. "I.. I.. She had gone to sleep. I tore the butterflies off of the sandals. I tried to avoid her, but… She saw me, with her butterflies, stuck to my own sandals. And to rub salt in the wound, I told her I had stolen her princess powers and that _I_ was the new ruler. It got me grounded for like a year…"

The group snorted, with some rolling their eyes. "Again, that is _not_ that bad. I've done worse to my own mother." Twinkles boasted.

"No, you don't understand!" Myhlea cried, exasperated at her hands flew from her face. "Even to this day, she won't talk to me!"

"Have you thought of giving them back? You know, the princess powers?" Avir smirked.

"It's not funny…" Myhlea pouted. Kailen failed her by giving in to a chuckle, earning himself a soft, disapproving glare. "I don't think she'll ever forgive me…"

"It sounds like she has bigger problems than losing her princess powers," Isarai added. "I'd count in all the marbles if she's still holding a grudge against that."

"A grudge against what?" Ruthios spoke up from behind her, causing the elfling, Myhlea, Chyri and even Karona to jump with a startle, Chyri went as far to even drunkenly away and topple off the end of the bench with an 'oof', causing a round of giggles to ignite the tavern.

Ruthios' face soured. They were drunk. He looked at Isarai and monitored her, and sure enough, she, too, was fighting back the giggles, her eyes hazy and half-lidded. He sighed. "Rumpus time over." He muttered, gently wrapping his fingers around her forearm, trying to turn and guide the clumsy elf to her feet. "I've found us a spot to camp."

"Awh, we were just getting started!" Twinkles pouted.

"He's always been a party-pooper," Isarai snickered, flashing Ruthios an apologetic smile when he looked at her with disapproval.

"We could be facing an army of demons by dawn," Ruthios lectured to all of them present. "Surely, you do not think one ought to be clear-headed for that?"

Chyri, Myhlea and Kailen found themselves looking guilt-strucken, while Avir and Karona gobbled up the last of their drinks before the bar was declared closed by the Paladin's preaches.

"He has a point," Anirion said from the bar, where he had been listening to their drunken antics all evening, yet did not want to find himself a participant in the self-shaming and embarrassment that they were demonstrating firsthand. His pride was costly.

"Fine, fine," Twinkles said, and began packing up the cards.

"You're no fun," Isarai giggled, then waved at the group.

"There are perfectly good beds upstairs," Avir commentated, his tone thick and brass as he teased the Paladin.

Ruthios shot him a look. "That is precisely why we are camping." And with that, he led Isarai out into the fresh air. It hit her like a ton of bricks, causing her feet to stagger and her head to lul. Groaning, he hoisted the elf up into his arms bridal-style, carrying her off to the tent he had pitched, the glow of the fire between the trees dim, but sure enough warm.

* * *

Lady Dawngrave stood at the top of an incline in the woods, looking out on a gushing river, which even in the nightlife proved to be lively. Her chest rose with each breath, her fingers twitching and tapping one of the various rings adorning each finger, fighting to contain the same primitive urge still radiating in her core. She grit her teeth, blaming her inability to sustain her pride on those below, not even bothering to look at the tavern, or in the direction of the gush of wind from behind her, where the Illidari stood and watched her.

"I do not require your consolation, demon." She snapped.

"Good, 'cause I ain't got any on me." He pat his non-existent pockets for emphasis as he joined her flank. She wrinkled her nose and recoiled from his presence. "Hey, what's that for?"

"Your energy is repulsive." She sniffed as if he were the epitome of a bad smell himself.

"No it's not," he coo'd, instead moving to stand behind her, where his taloned fingers sought to clutch her shapely hips. He pressed his chest against her back, wrapping the entirety of his burly, bare arms around her form. "My energy is most desirable to you. So much so, you once declared you would be happy to drown in it. That is why you took the path you did." He whispered into her ears, his breath fanning her ear and causing goosebumps to raise along her back, neck and shoulders. He let his lips caress them, grazing down her neck and along her shoulder.

She quivered, and reached up to grasp one of his horns. "So you _do_ remember me…"

"You think I would forget you?" He murmured with clear disbelief. "I doubt that, my dear. You were by far the most delectable of offerings in the temple. Every man, woman and demon wished to quench a thirst they thought unendable with you." His claws rubbed her hips, the talons coming dangerously close to the area she desired him most.

"And is this thirst still eminent?" She found herself purring, craning her neck as one of his hands worked up to caress one of her fleshy mounds. She cursed the fabric between them, no matter how luxurious it was.

He responded but with a grunt, and then bit down into her shoulder. Hard. The notion caused her to gasp, and within a second, his demonic speed had her pressed against a nearby trunk. Not that she would care, but it provided them even a fragment of privacy. He span her, perhaps a little more rough than really necessary, pushing her back to lean against the trunk as he faced her.

He dropped to his knees and yanked her robes up, using a hand to hitch her left thigh around one of his horns, providing her additional balance as his mouth sought her aromatic nethers, already slick with need. Just as he remembered her.

He ravaged her with his lips, tongue and teeth. Kissing, sculpting and shaping her with gentle, teasing movements and shapes. He bit down against the little nub as she arched her back, pushing his face further into her as soft pants and moans graced his ears. His teased her with his sharp teeth, not particularly caring if he drew blood.

She rocked her hips, she needed more. She was desperate for more. She growled, and unlocked her leg from his horn, using her foot to forcefully kick and push him to the ground. She lunged after him, making quick work to discard his leathers just enough for her to slip him inside of her.

Almost like the tune to an old, familiar song, the two began to rotate and rock their hips into a rhythm only they knew. She placed her hands upon his thighs and leaned back, hoisting and rocking her nethers against his, while he placed his hands on her hips to help her lift up and down, thrusting deep within her. Her other hand came forward, slipping under her garments to pleasure herself while the two worked.

Dissatisfied, Valein returned her act and tore her off of him, throwing her to the ground on her belly with her rump in the air. He pushed her robes up and off of her, while she expertly leaned on her elbows and presented her shapely bottom to him. Immediately, he thrusted into her with a speed intensified by his felish being, causing her to cry and squirm beneath him. He slinked a hand under her belly, seeking to pleasure her with his talons, his other grappling a breast and forcing it free of the burden of her vestments, fondling her bare mound.

She came before he did, her body electrified and soothed by the sudden euphoria rushing through her veins. Her back arched, her neck stuck out and her crimson lips parted into an 'o'. Her thighs trembled and her moans were airy as the half-demon ruthlessly pounded into her, causing her hair to tumble from it's elegant up-do and to splay down her back, which had began to gather a thin coat of perspiration, causing her hair and what fabric she still had on to stick to her slick body. Already, she could feel the dim ache arising from her nethers, but she didn't care. He bulged inside of her, almost impossibly as her body swallowed him with ease, until he reached his climax. He didn't withdraw, preferring to fill her. He had no doubt that it would provide her both pain and pleasure.

Breathless, he pulled out of her and almost pushed her away. She did not feel the sting of his emotional rejection, and if anything, it provided her with greater satisfaction. Tiredly, she smiled against her arms as she collapsed, not caring that she was on view for the world. The Illidari left her there after straightening himself out, but she enjoyed the feeling of his seed trickle down her exposed thighs, leaving a subtle sting in it's wake.

Eventually, she hoisted herself up and straightened out her robes. However, she would not be caught going without a bath in this state. And the river looked especially tantalising in this moment.


	5. Chapter 5: By the Might of Azshara

**Hi Readers! Just to show I'm not being ignorant, as I am genuinely just in a rush to get chapters edited and uploaded so often I don't have time to leave a message, but I just wanted to thank you all for reading. If you are enjoying this so far, or would like to leave me advice on improvement, characters you would like to see more of, plot routes you perhaps think would be interesting to cover, etc, then please do not hesitate. Please favourite as I appreciate the support. More to come next week! Enjoy!**

 **~ Cynpix**

The bile in her tummy churned with every rock and tilt of the swaying boat. She felt her throat close up, keeping her lips securely clamped as she tried to regulate her breathing purely through her nose, for fear if she opened her mouth the contents of her forcefully chowed breakfast would make it's way back up onto the deck. Her eyes were shut and her head pressed against her upbrought knees as she sat, her back pressed to the interior hull.

"You deserve it," Ruthios' gruff voice called out not so delicately to her sensitive ears. She knew he had intentionally leaned in, before straightening himself up to look out at the horizon of the sea, his short, greying hair ever so softly tousling in the breeze.

Isarai groaned, scrunching her eyes shut even tighter. Her elven ears coiled, lowering and trying to curl themselves as anatomically shut as they could. She cursed her exceptional hearing. Just this one time.

"Feeling a little rough, are we?" Myhlea's timid voice rang this time, almost like nails on a chalkboard. Isarai suppressed another groan, not bothering to raise her head as she motioned with her hand, fingers splayed, palm-downwards, rocking the hand back and forth.

Myhlea chuckled, this time gentler and quieter. "Here," Isarai's ears couldn't help but prick. She opened her eyes and squinted at Myhlea, her head stinging as the brightness invaded her eyes, the sun's glow warm on her cheek. Isarai clamped her eyes shut again, for the sun made Myhlea's azure skin almost unbearable to look at with it's silverish glow. The little elf instead felt the night elf tuck a small vial between her fingertips.

"What is it?" Isarai's voice murmured, her free hand tugging the hood of her new cloak over her head, shieldin her from the sun's glare. She didn't look at Myhlea, staring hazily down at the small purple vial in her hand.

"Alcohol's nemesis'," Myhlea assured with a chuckle. "Drink it, sip some water and you'll feel right as rain in no time."

"Thank you." Isarai said simply, following her instructions as she tossed the violet liquid back, followed by a sip from the flask Ruthios' wordlessly handed down to her.

"And how are you fairing, Mr. Blythe?" Myhlea asked with a polite smile. The human acknowledged her with a slight turn of his head.

"Fine," He paused, then added a moment later out of courtesy. He had a great deal of respect for the priest, after all. "I spared myself the suffering. Sobriety is the new hedonism."

Isarai snorted, which caused her some pain as another twinge pricked her temples, her expression becoming a keen sneer which only caused Ruthios to look even more smug. "Don't…" the little elf pleaded to him.

"Like I said, you deserve it." The human muttered, turning his smirk back to the horizon.

Myhlea hoisted herself back up from her crouch, wavering slightly as the boat swayed contrarily to her movements, her hands splaying in an effort to steady herself. "I quite enjoyed it. I'm not much a drinker myself, Isarai." Ruthios' plucked his brow at the use of her name, for he had not shared it with them.

"How much of an idiot did I make myself out to be?" Isarai mumbled.

"Oh, not much at all-"

"The one of the village."

Myhlea and Ruthios interjected each other. Isarai sighed, plonking her soft chin between the caps of her knees, which she hugged tightly to her chest. In this position, the rocking of the boat was almost soothing. The trio remained silent for some time, with Myhlea having of moved to stand besides Isarai's sat form. The priestess closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath as she enjoyed the feeling of the sea air tickling her skin.

"How long are we on this blasted ship for?" Isarai finally asked, peeking up through her lashes at Ruthios. She was fortunate the sun was no longer as blinding as the potion began to take effect.

"A couple of days at the least, I imagine." He responded with a shrug, his voice somewhat gentler. Isarai, for one, was glad he was done torturing her for the time being.

Then Lady Dawngrave's voice hollered next, and she was not shy of making her tone any less brunt, despite it's delicacy. "It is idiocy at its finest to put us on this wreckable, hogwash mound of wood when there are portals readily available…"

Isarai avoided looking in her direction, for she had no idea the elven beauty had even decided to join their corner. "I'm sure Valein has his reasons," Myhlea said with a smile, which she fought not to falter as the Lady refused to even look in her direction. The Priestess sighed. "You could at least _try_ to be polite, Lady Dawngrave. Is that not one of the aspects of social etiquette in Silvermoon?"

"Do you not have a tree to fornicate with?" The Lady quipped with a blank expression, causing Myhlea's eyes to widen.

"H-.. w-.. You are certainly not as much as a lady as you make yourself out to be," The Priestess chastised in a motherly manner, her hands going to her shapely hips with a firm look of disapproval.

"Lady and Synora don't go hand in hand," Valein said as he approached, a goofy smile giving him an almost eerie apparel with the blindfold set in place over his eyes. The Lady's, or Synora's, eyes flew open with a look of pure rage, her fists clenched and held at her sides.

"The audacity to refer to me by name is not one I would expect from an idle hodgepodge like yourself." Synora spat, her voice seething as a meticulously manicured digit prodded the area between the Illidari's collarbones.

"You love me for it," he winked with a drawl, causing Synora to shudder with disgust and retreat from him with a whip of her head and a whirl of her body, facing the sea. It didn't affect Valein, who's smile remained just as bright and goofy, as he enthusiastically clapped his hands. "So, how are we feeling after last night's debauchery?"

"Sick," Synora huffed. Valein angled his chin in her direction, a smirk in place.

"I second that," Isarai pointed in her direction without opening her eyes, which seemed to aid the potion with diminishing her killer headache.

"I can't seem to remember your return to the bar," Myhlea hummed as she gave Synora a dubious look.

"I wouldn't be seen dead in that ratshack," Synora sniffed, her clenched fists relaxing as her hands moved to instead cup over her midsection.

"I found it quite enjoyable," Myhlea hummed.

"You would," Synora complied with a curtness in her tone.

Myhlea gave up on her with but a shake of her head, beginning to walk back to her quarters.

"You get used to it," Valein reassured the priest with a soft smile, turning only to shoot Synora a look of irritability. The Illidari approached, grazing his stubbled chin across the soft flesh of her neck as he lowly murmured, even he couldn't mistake the subtle shiver of her spine. "Play nicely."

Synora growled, earning herself a chuckle and a ruffle of her hair from Valein himself. She tried to shake him off with a recoil and a bat of her hands. "Don't touch me."

Valein shot his hands up into the air. "Whatever you say, milady. I'm going to go and get some shut eye. Blythe, I don't suppose you could assist the day crew on their watch? Can't be doing with any seasnakes toppling us over."

Ruthios rolled his eyes, sparing Isarai a second glance before moving to the opposing end of the ship to help take watch. Valein smiled, looking in the direction of the two ladies before following Myhlea's suit to the quarters.

Isarai tried to ignore the fact that she and Synora were now alone, though couldn't help but be curious as to why the fel-eyed elf hadn't moved from her vicinity yet. Instead, she let her hands roam to her satchel, plucking one of the few smuggled goodies from her bag. The rustle of the paper caused Synora's ears to twitch, her expression ever as unimpressed. Her scarlet red lips parted in order to give the little elf a berating for disturbing the peace, hopeful it would be enough to stir another amusing spectacle, only for her narrow eyes to catch sight of the sweet treat making it's way to Isarai's pale lips.

"What is that?" Synora found herself asking, for even she had a considerable sweet tooth. Especially for biscuits.

Isarai froze mid-bite, but it was too late to turn back now. She endured Synora staring down at her with a half-quizzical, half-discouraging expression as she chewed. Isarai swore food took longer to chew when you were expected to talk…

"Cream biscuits," She answered simply. Synora's brow remained arched as she waited. Gradually, Isarai took the hint and offered her the remaining half of the biscuit. The lady scoffed and upturned her nose, but curiosity got the better of her as she took the half-bitten delicacy extended to her, turning it over for inspection.

Synora turned the biscuit so it's non-bitten end faced her, where she took a timid bite. Her face became blank, her shrug careless as she tossed the sullied remnants into the ocean. "A second-rate Thalassian Swirl."

Isarai shrugged. "I've not tried that."

"They are not your average delicacy," Synora tutted. "Though, I suppose you haven't tried a lot of things that are above average."

Isarai shrugged once more, for she didn't have a sturdy enough stomach to backchat. "I guess not."

Synora looked at her then. "What about men?"

Isarai stammered. "Excuse me?"

"Men," Synora repeated, her eyes narrowing into slits with infuriation.

"Have I tried men?" Isarai inquired with confusion. Synora responded with an eye-roll. _Duh_ was the impression Isarai got from that. She felt her blonde brows furrow. "That's a rather personal question."

"It is a simple question. Are you or are you not a virgin?"

"Does it matter?" Isarai stiffened, her tone growing defensive.

"I suppose not," Synora said with an air of dubiousness, her shrug meager. "One cannot but help but inquire the gossip of your relations, especially of someone of your stature."

"My _stature?_ What is that supposed to mean?"

"Please don't tell me you are oblivious to the way the men look at you," Synora taunted, causing Isarai to flinch and tense even more. The way the little elf's fists bundled together did not go amiss, and part of Synora wanted to tease the girl more, yet the more Synora measured her hardened expression, the more she saw both similarities and differences between herself and this lower creature. Lower, Isarai did not appear. Elves were beautiful by nature, and Isarai was just that even with the post-alcohol sickness paling her already snow white features. This little elf's exposure to sunlight was limited, that much was so, but not in a way that made her ghoulish. Her cheeks held a healthy, rose-gold glow to them. Her eyes were up-turned and wide in shape, and in colour were world's apart from Synora's own; the bluest of blues, the colour of the sky on a beautiful summer's day, a colour one would find among the most enticing of exotic fish within the depths of Azeroth's bluest oceans, sparkling like two jewels against her snowy flesh, framed with rich dark lashes that were unusually brown, nearing black, unlike the hair of her brows and head, which in the sun became a dazzling display of silver, platinum and gold. Her lips were a pale shade of rose, plump and full in shape, parted just enough to expose two sets of pearly teeth. Her body was petite, slender, suited for flexibility, though not what Synora would describe as thin or lanky, given the slight protrusion of Isarai's tummy upon sitting. Entrapped beneath all that leather were an abundance of curves that could match, if not overthrow, an orcess' or humans, and the sheer fact that Isarai possessed more of a curvaceous silhouette than her own would have made her twitch with envy if it were not another, different factor of the young elf's appearance bothersome to the elder lady. Synora continued to stare down at the fresh-faced youthling, her distaste soon to make a return as a malicious snarl took hold of her scarlet lips, curving them downwards. "Soon, you will learn to make use of yourself."

"That's why I'm on this mission." Isarai answered, her tone soft spoken and unsure, still tense from the lady's scrutiny.

"Not like that, you half-wit," She snapped, rubbing the space between her silvery brows. She pointed a sharp, glossy red nail Isarai's way, the same shade of red as her rouge lips. "You choose to lie in the filth of humans, when you possess the utilities to gain all you desire. Men, women, riches, the finest of luxuries and most delectable of cousines. If only you knew how to present yourself. You would be one of Quel'thalas' most desired."

Isarai's brows turned inwards yet again, confusion reclaiming hold of the little elf. "You lost me, but I do not lie in _filth._ "

"We'll see, little one," Synora chimed, turning away from the high elf. Her cat-like eyes slinked back to the ocean, but even this proved to a futile escape, for the sea held that very same shade of blue that the warlock came to detest.

Isarai's eyes instinctively rolled. She hadn't the energy to play riddles, especially if they were Synora's. She reached up to grapple the hult's edge, pulling herself and her satchel to her feet. She looked off in Ruthios' direction, then to the quarters. Unwilling to sleep alone, she wandered the deck to find a remote spot where she was not in the way of the crew but near Ruthios enough to feel comfortable getting some shut lowered herself to the decks, plonking her satchel down to use as a pillow, while her cloak acted as a blanket and her hood effectively blocked the sun's rays from her face. She tried not to fidget, ignoring the discomfort as she had been taught, or else she would never find sleep on this excursion. A yawn twitched her lips apart as the hangover aided her adrift, causing her heavy lids to comfortably droop and her mind to grow foggy. The rocking of the boat became nurturing, guiding her like a mother's lullaby into sleep, with the only sounds that of the distant waves, the coo of a passing seagull, and the gentle stamping of the crew's feet.

* * *

 _The clash of glass meeting glass rang through the air, almost synchronising to the soft whisper of music in the air, sultry and smooth in brand, with the occasional upbeat tempo. A swarm of bodies littered the room to the degree that faces could not be made out, and the only hint of race being the hundred odd ears piercing the air, slim, pale and elven-like._

 _Isarai felt higher than the others, as if she stood on a pedestal of sorts, shrouded in darkness. She could not see her own hands or feet, and likewise could not feel them as she willed to move. A feeling of panic flooded her core, only to be drowned out. A new feeling took over, one of haziness, fatigue and intoxication. It was then her form became illuminated by an azure light, and simultaneously all eyes turned on her, green and fel-like, exposing a throng of Sin'dorei in her wake, most of which held a lust in their eyes so potent they were practically aflame. They did not hold her interest for long as she caught sight of herself from across yonder, showcasing an elaborate display of mirrors along the floors, ceilings and walls throughout. Throughout the room were a scattering of chairs, sofas and beds, cushions and rugs, all decorated to match in hues of scarlet, ivory and gold, insufficiently secluded from the rest of the room by thin, measly transparent violet drapes that provided privacy at a minimal effort. Flutes of champagne waited throughout, either upon the tables, a wandering waiter's tray, or in the hands of Silvermoon's most aristocratic. Yet all Isarai could focus on was herself._

 _She was higher than the others, in the sense that she was indeed upon a makeshift podium. A bed. Her pale skin was illuminated under the azure light, glowing even, and her eyes were only intensified through this lighting, sparkling silver. The sheets were tousled and silk-like, and shimmered a deep burgundy, only barely draped over her milky thighs and tummy, leaving much to the imagination. Her breasts were but the only thing to not be exposed as she lay upon the bed, on her side, one hand supporting her by it's elbow, the extension of that limb resting upon the sheets beneath her, and the other comfortably draped along her body, her hand splayed over her midsection. Her arms were decorated with golden bangles, with a thinner, matching bangle-like accessory slinking around one of her more exposed thighs. Covering her naked form was a pathetic attempt of lingerie, a bra-like structure in a deep onyx colour that enhanced her bosom to the point it was almost excessive. It clasped to her form with straps that criss-crossed over her breasts and along her back, with another criss-cross taking place just below the bra cups, atop of her tummy. She began to move without her own permission, first into a sensual crawl, her eyes staring beyond that of the crowd, and back to her reflection's own. She watched herself with burning intensity, matching that of the crowd's as the sheets began to slip from her bare legs, exposing what Isarai was fortunate for was, again, one of the more pathetic attempts of a skirt. The material was as transparent as the drapes hanging throughout the room, almost smoke-like as it swayed with her movements. A darker material covered her womanhood beneath a singular strip of the translucent skirt, which draped forever between her legs, disconnected from the other aspect of the skirt which sought to keep her thighs and legs free, hanging like a veil from her hips and shrouding her from the back, her form only just visible through the material. Three slinky, individual straps either side clung to her hips and up to her waist, the lowest and thickest of these straps proving to be what connected the two-part skirt to her body, allowing the material to slither as her body rolled onto its side, over onto her stomach with her legs curled and feet in the air, and back over again into a sitting position, one leg beneath the other, matching the tempo of the music. Her movements flowed together like a river, her thighs tucked together in the sideways position until her the nearest of her bare feet found the reflective, cold floor, providing on-lookers an additional angle to lustfully observe her prowling body as it raised, the skirts billowing to her sides and between her closed legs._

 _She moved forwards with a tantalising sway of her wide hips, the material slinking between her creamy legs. Her bangle-decorated arms raised, her hands cupping into her voluminous, curled hair, which reflected the blue tones of the light with each ruffle and tumble. Her hips began to gyrate on their own accord, the skirts following and enhancing her movements. Her stomach rolled and tucked, her legs now seperating in a wide enough step to provide her spectactors a satisfactory view of her whole self. Her body turned in a following second, continuing to sensually twist and wind in tease for the crowd as she exposed her bare back and shapely rear. She twirled and stepped forward to face the crowd again, one hand releasing her hand to grab the air, her fingers curling around something thin, cold and steel-like. Her other hand joined the first, slightly lower down._

 _She felt her upper half dip, supporting by but the pole she now held on, her legs became airborne, her body began to twirl in the air, the material following her wake. She could see herself spinning upon the bar, her body and legs initiating a series of movements as her world went round and round. Her hips were able to rock back and forth, while her legs continuously wrapped and unwrapped themselves from the pole, guiding her into a new move with each and every spin, sometimes with one leg at a time as the other extended to offer the crowd an entirely new angle. On occasion, she would daringly release the hold of the pole with her hands, using but her thighs to keep her winged, it was then that her spine would curl until she was upside down, her hair and arms flowing below her as she went round, only to hoist herself right back up again and shift into a more complex, expressive position. From all corners of the room she could see each of her movements, no matter how big or little, as her reflection met her from all directions._

 _Unusually, she did not see a male's approach. Strong hands took hold of her, escorting her bridal style into the middle of the room and within the crowd, where the largest and most elaborate of beds awaited, surrounded by the very same veil, the same veil that brushed and tickled her skin as she was placed upon the soft mound with ease, onto her back with her knees upbrought._

 _In an instance, a select few of the crowd trickled besides her upon the bed. A lady with flaming red hair took claim of Isarai, brushing her burgundy lips along the little elf's shoulder until reaching her neck, sending shivers through Isarai's body. Her hips could not help but raise with the arch of her back, and another female came from the opposing side, her hair a deep brown and her skin tanned, her emerald eyes were hooded with lust. The brunette clamped a hand to Isarai's cheek, careful not to disrupt the redhead's sensual kisses at the blonde's neck, seeking to claim Isarai's lips in a clasp of her own. It was not long before Isarai felt herself reciprocating the kiss, her eyes closing on their own accord as their tongues began to brush together in a sensual dance of their own. She felt the same large, calloused hands brush up the length of her thighs, starting from her knees upwards, coming dangerously close to where she needed them most._

 _The thin material at her crotch suddenly felt very heavy, burdensome even. She mewled and rocked her hips as she felt the material and skirts brush her skin as they were retracted from her body. By now, the redhead's kisses had began to drift southwards, her bra no longer in place, leaving Isarai dumbfounded, albeit careless, to it's whereabouts as the redhead's equally red lips clasped a nipple. The brunette took her turn upon the side of Isarai's neck that had been neglected, her tan hand coming up to cup the high elf's remaining breast, rolling the nub expertly between her fingers._

 _Isarai's eyes fluttered open, where she noticed the rest of the crowd watching with lust in their own eyes, glowing brightly with an intrusive demeanor, even through the veil. Her eyes prowled then to the male between her thighs, his hands continuing to rub up and down in a teasing manner. His head was low, his hair a deep, chocolate brown. His body was worn and muscled, and she faintly recognised the thin, neat gathering of stubble along his jaw and chin. His hardened, hawk-like eyes were firmly latched upon the area between her legs, and before she could get an adequate look at his face, he had buried it between her legs._

 _His tongue teased her in an elaborate manner, seeking only to pleasure her as he licked and tickled her little nub. Isarai threw her head back as a complete essence of euphoria duplicated and spiralled throughout her body. Her back arched, with the male pleasing her shifting his hands to hoist her up, his fingers splayed along the dip at her back, bringing her closer to his face. Her moan was muffled as the redhead from earlier painted Isarai's lips scarlet, giving her a long, smooth and deep kiss. The brunette had since also moved, taking over the redhead's job of smothering her breasts with delicious, wet kisses and nips._

 _Her climax came hard and fast as the male took turns between suckling the sensitive bundle and hastily flicking his tongue upon it. She released herself from the redhead's kiss to let out a scream of delight. By now the male had to painfully clasp her hips to keep her still, refusing to permit her escape as he forced her to ride out her orgasm upon his face, while her body was still being shadowed with kisses._

 _A darkness took over, shielding her from the onlookers and the feelings of being touched dissipated. Isarai was left there feeling breathless, her bare chest heaving with each pant. Her head lulled to the side, heavy with pleasure and sleep. Her eyes were hooded but she could no longer make out any figures, and the music softened and became muffled, seeming further away than it had been before…_

 _She felt a hand clasp her shoulder and began to shake, but she was not ready to let the after-effects of the pleasure raking her body go yet. She wanted to lie here and bask in it forever, but the shaking would not subside._

" _Wake up!_ NOW!"

The voice growled at her to waken, causing Isarai to shoot up with alarm and fright. Her eyes found Avir's, and immediately she began to blush in embarrassment. Had he been the one to perform such an intimate act on her?

Anger then began to bubble in her core. How dare he touch her without her permission, no matter how pleasuring it had been in the moment. She reached up to clasp the collar of his shirt in her vice grip, bringing her face close to his.

"Do _not_ touch me ever again!" She screamed, though her voice was receded by a crackle through the air, illuminating both herself and Avir in a momentary, blinding light. His dark brows furrowed with confusion, for he couldn't make out her words but failed to understand her anger towards him, regardless.

He rolled his eyes and shoved her hand away from him with a force that wasn't necessary. She flailed, but didn't hit the deck as he kept his grip, yanking the little elf to her feet. "Don't be angry at me, be angry at them!"

Isarai's eyes narrowed as she spun, only to bare witness to the rocking ship, the waves dangerous in their assault as they splashed upon the side of the ship, grappling the hulls like a giant's hand, weighing it down with attempts to capsize. Beyond that, she could see flickering figures within the sea.

 _Naga._ She cursed, and immediately ensured her blades were in place. Her feet steadied her, and she became aware of the scuttling crew, who were trying their best to keep themselves and the ship afloat in the battle.

A trio of arrows encased in flames and ice soared through the air, one of which interjected a casting naga with a pained cry. Isarai took a second to look in the direction the arrows came from, the rain splattering her face as she looked up to witness Chyri rounding up another trio of arrows from the mast, already aflame and ready to go as her body whirled between offense and defense from her high grounding, shooting towards whichever side of the vessel came under prominent threat.

Myhlea had taken place behind the mast, her efforts far from cowardly as her eyes flickered between the wellbeing of her team and the naga, her hands aglow with the same blinding Light, adding to the lightning illuminating the sky as the naga were forced to slither down the boat and slink below the depths to escape being blinded or struck. Almost like a protector, Kailen assigned himself as her shield, simultaneously working to assist Chyri in her efforts from lower ground, piercing arrow after arrow into the scuttling chests of the naga spewing on deck.

Ruthios and Valein were at the foresail yard, weapons at the ready as naga began to clamber on deck, while Twinkles perched herself starboard side, her cackle maniac and rigid as her whole form bounced from the powerful, duo-rifle gun she had clearly spent some time on for the sake of mass murder, shooting bullets after bullets at the darkened water until the numbers of naga on that side ceased. Down the row from her, Anirion bashed his shield and struck his sword into any naga that dared to advance despite the homicidal gnome, knocking their dazed or soon deceased bodies back into the water.

Port side, Karona and Avir whipped, slashed and jabbed with their short swords at the naga trying to overthrow them, and was where most of the naga seemed to be targeting. Synora was nowhere to be seen, but that did little to hang over Isarai's mind as she went into combat mode.

Her daggers were at the ready as she took the defensive with Karona and Avir, standing between them. She used her shorter stature to her gain, being able to spot the naga crambling up on deck before they could spot her. They were met with jabs and slashes from her own daggers, the force of the trio enough to keep the naga at bay from succeeding in their attempts to get upon the ship.

"About time!" The orc growled between gritted teeth, her throat emitting a guttural grunt as she shoulder-bashed another Naga back into the depths.

"How the fel would I know we were going to become fishbait?!" Isarai retorted through a moment's break, only for another naga to suddenly claw and wriggle it's way up. Avir took care of this one, making quick work of slashing it's scaled throat.

"Would you both shut the fuck up?!" Avir demanded as another boom of thunder bellowed from the skies. The ship viciously rocked to the side, causing the trio to tumble forward. Both Karona and Isarai toppled, with Karona feeling a wet, slimy arm clasp itself around the orc's waist as the boat tipped dangerously close, sending both her and the naga into the ocean.

Isarai squealed, her hands grappling for something, anything, to grab onto, but it was futile. Her hands uselessly batted at the side of the boat, the wind sharply causing her wet hair to whip and slap against the flesh of her cheek, her daggers lost to the sea, which soon swallowed her up with a vicious, ice-cold grip, practically sucking her into the waters. Isarai couldn't catch her breath as water filled her lungs, causing her to choke. Her eyes stung as the water invaded them, though she fought to keep them open. She kicked and thrashed to no avail, her body ached and twisted in a manner that was not natural as the sea battered her to one side, then another. Eventually, she was thrown in the right way and briefly broke surface. She immediately took in a ragged, desperate breathe, only for another wave to topple her and knock the air out of her once more. Her hands flailed in a bid to try and grab the surface, but she was only pushed further down.

Something grabbed her by the ankle, seeking to pull her further and further into the depths. Her kicks were meager in the waters, but her hands slapped her sides in a bid to grab the gun Ruthios had instructed for her to keep in it's sheath until needed. She pointed it downwards.

 _Please don't be my foot,_ she prayed to the Gods and fired. The Light-fuelled bullet briefly lit up the small blip of the ocean she was hovering in, exposing three scowling naga, their faces angular, but unusually beautiful, hindered only by their unworldly mutations; scales, spiked fins, razor talons, with their arms in quartets, all grappling to retain Isarai until the little elf fired, to which their blackened eyes had widened with an unusual look of fear. Isarai heard them all emit muffled, foreign screams, and while the light had since vanished, so had the naga. She kicked and kicked, hurdling her body upwards until her head broke the surface of the water once more. Yet again, she took a deep breathe, to which she used to cry out.

"Over her-" Her voice was cut off as her body was plunged beneath the water, a great weight plummeting her below for a third time, but this time it remained the deeper they went. Isarai squinted through the water, bashing at whatever creature had claimed her. She felt the gun still in her grasp and fiddled to pull the trigger, the gun emitting another bright flash of light, exposing the sudden pooling of blood in the water between her and her naga assailant, who squealed and released her with the aid the gun forcing distance between her and the troublesome elf.

The shot was not fatal, and the naga's hands formed a small, glowing orb in her hand, which grew within a matter of seconds before the naga flung it at the elf. The frosty bolt struck Isarai's midsection, winding her further and causing her body to go limp within the water, her fingertips letting the gun slip away. The naga brought yet another hand up, tentacles sprouting from the unknown beneath her, winding like seaweed around Isarai's limbs, trapping and maiming her.

Isarai had but a second to look into the naga's eyes before she were to be pulled down, the desperation and plea in her eyes, yet just as Isarai had began to feel herself being tugged, she was released, immediately beginning to flail her arms, batting at the now floating, decapitated naga's head.

A smaller hand wrapped itself around Isarai's wrist and pulled her back up again until she was able to take a breath, but her body felt limp following the deprivation and her eyes had since fluttered shut. "Don't you dare die on me," Anirion's voice was gruff against her ear, his own source of air jeopardised as the two bobbed in the water, his armour had began to weigh him and Isarai down, and part of him cursed his decision to dive in after the blue-eyed youth.

She clung to him like that of a cub to it's mother, but her hold felt distant and weak as she went in and out of consciousness. "There, there!" Chyri hollered from the distance. Something pierced the water besides them, the rope only momentarily drifting along the water's surface. Anirion clutched it, wrapping it around his wrist and hand several times, giving it a firm tug to signal the duo to be reeled in.

The two were hoisted until they reached a closer proximity to the boat. He went on to hoist Isarai's limp body, throwing it over his plated shoulder. One hand kept her secure against him, while the other held the lifeline. His feet worked together with his comrades, who were busy pulling them up, scaling the ship until they reached the hull.

Valein grabbed Isarai from the male's shoulder, throwing her to the deck as he then hastily moved on with the aid of Avir to assist Anirion over the deck. She lay sprawled on her back, unmoving and hair obscuring her chest and face. "Is she breathing?!" Ruthios shouted, but was otherwise kept occupied as another naga boarded the ship. Ruthios struck him with his Light-fuelled sword.

Myhlea fleetingly looked in Isarai's direction, her hands working in unison to heal and physically encourage the water to flee from the Orc below her, who was also unconscious from her fight in the ocean. The orc had began to stir, with any second now being the one to bring the water back up. "Someone take over!" The priestess cried. Isarai drifted in and out of consciousness, the blackened periods growing longer and longer the more she was without air.

"Move," Anirion snapped as he staggered upon his feet, only to collapse besides Isarai's unmoving side. He pressed his cheek against her leather-bound chest, and upon feeling no air raise her body, used a smaller knife hitched upon his outer left thigh to slice through the ties of her vestments, immediately freeing her from the tight bounds. Her breath continued to hitch, to which he immediately began to pump his fists to her chest. He did one round of compressions, then cupped his fingers to Isarai's perky nose, pressing his lips to hers in a hasty bid to fill her with his own breath.

Suddenly, Isarai's eyes shot open and her body jolted, flinching to the side as her body propelled the water from her lungs, spilling out of her sore throat. Anirion's large hand went on to smack her back, encouraging her to get it all out. The Orcess had since began to join her, and Isarai found herself sharing a mutual look of relief with Karona.

The Orcess collapsed back with a groan, while Isarai continued to hack. "Can she not swim?" Valein snarled as Ruthios ran towards them, neglecting his duties of defense once having of ridded himself of the pesky naga.

"N-naga," Isarai hacked as she tried to explain. Valein understood, taking place as he went to switch positions with Ruthios, disposing of any naga that continued to threaten the ship. "Archers, back to your posts! Keep firing that rifle! Sunstrike, Sunborne, back to defense!"

Isarai felt Ruthios' arms wrap around her, hoisting her against his form. He shifted her as close to the mast pole as he could. Myhlea dragged Karona after them, setting her besides the elf. Ruthios and Kailen guarded them both, but the naga numbers had began to simmer.

"Over there, shoot the witch bitch!" Valein instructed, pointing to a naga who was supported by an everlasting, unmoving fountain of water. Her lips flowed with a tongue that was unrecognisable to the Azerothian races, her hands mimicking a pattern as she cast. The water from the far off starboard side of the ocean halted, then began to retreat and form upwards into a wave that was sure to end this once and for all. The archers were desperate in their bid to land an arrow upon her, either missing or hitting a barrier that was otherwise unseen. Twinkles' cackling had lowered into silence, her teeth exposed into a snarl as the little gnome was unable to land a hit, even with her rifle, only managing to take out the sea witch's bodyguards.

The wave continued to approach, until Synora made her presence known from the stern, which had span to face the naga. Her nightgown bellowed in the air, but a dark cloud of smoke enveloped the warlock as her hands exposed themselves as green flames. She raised her arms to the skies and called out a chant that was equally unknown, yet caused what little naga had began to trickle back to the boat, retreat in panic.

In an instance, the warlock threw her arms down, as the splattering rain nearby the sea witch burst into emerald flames, cascading down upon her slick, aquatic form. The sea witch's cry filled the air, agonised and tainted as the flames distinctively sizzled as they hit the water. "You will _pay! By the might of Azshara!"_

Synora ignored her as she continued to hail the sea witch down with fire, causing her to flee and retreat with her kin. The large wave gave way, causing the ship to groan and viciously spin and tumble. The captain yelled an order, and the crew worked to keep the vessel upbright.

Karona slammed her mace into the mast with what strength the orcess had left, her free hand gripping Isarai to keep her near as the boat tilted, then uprighted itself with a vicious jolt. Isarai felt her head smack into the mast behind her, her world turning black.


	6. Chapter 6: Getting To Know You

" _I don't see anything…" Myhlea's voice spoke out from what seemed a distance away. "Although, I can assure you she is stable."_

" _Yeah, she just has a knack for head whackin'," Twinkles' spoke out next._

" _A renown talent of hers," Ruthios muttered. "She was the same as an infant."_

" _You two certainly have your history," The Priestess hummed, her tone thick with curiosity. "A peculiar one, I admit."_

 _There was a pause, and despite Isarai's closed eyes, she could tell the aged paladin would be shrugging. "Her family were good people."_

" _What? Even for elves?" The gnome snorted._

" _For elves, yes." Ruthios' voice now held a slight tone of humor. Isarai felt a calloused fingerpad brush against the top of her wrist, the initial touch causing her to twitch. "See! She moved!"_

" _Oh!" Myhlea gasped with surprise. Gentle footsteps trotted from Isarai's left and to her right, until she felt a soft, warm palm cup her forehead. "Isarai? Can you hear me?"_

" _Izzy?" Ruthios encouraged, his voice low enough for only Isarai and presumably the long-eared Priestess to hear, who kept quiet in regards to the human's unusual affection._

Isarai tried to try her eyes open. There was some difficulty, as her eyes felt not only heavy but as if they had been glued shut. Eventually, her eyes obeyed, and through her hooded lids she could make out the three blurry figures. "Hi," her dry voice cracked, and she soon realised her throat felt as if it were on fire. Her droopy eyes somehow widened, her hand coming up to weakly cup her throat. In an instance, Myhlea had the tip of her water flask gently pressed to the little elf's plump lips, allowing her to take a few sips.

"Don't gulp." She instructed, and Isarai complied, drinking slowly. The smooth flow of water felt like heaven against the raw flesh of her throat, to which she happily relished the feeling with a soft flutter of her eyes, the relief clear upon her face. Her vision began to clear up.

"You scared me back there, kid," Ruthios softly lectured, his fingers seeking Isarai's own. The blonde returned the loose hold of their hands, opening her eyes only to offer Ruthios an apologetic expression. He had shed his armour, and sat besides her to her left within a wooden, armed chair, wearing but a cotton shirt and some comfortable black breaches, however, even Isarai noticed the dark bags beneath his singular, grey-blue eye, the other covered with a simple patch. Strange, for he usually wore his mechanical goggle. The human shook his head. "Stop. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Naga are pretty hardcore," Twinkles nodded. She was sat at the foot of Isarai's bunk, legs splayed out in an almost teddy-bear like position. The thought made Isarai almost crack a smile.

"They are infuriatingly resilient…" Myhlea sighed, withdrawing the flask to set back to the bedside table. The night elf reached over to lightly brush Isarai's hair out of her face. Isarai could only imagine how course and matted it felt to her blue fingers, for she could feel the clumped strand hit the pillow besides her ear with an abnormal thump. Myhlea perched her rump upon the bed, setting her hands to her own lap. "How are you feeling, dear?"

"Like I've been roughing it in Booty Bay all night," Isarai answered with honesty. Twinkles snorted yet again, though her empathic twinge gave way that the gnome knew that feeling quite well.

"The Bay ain't all bad," A new voice purred. All eyes turned to the entrance, where Avir stood carrying a tray, which held a large bowl with a wooden spoon protruding from its rim. "For starters, the booze ain't watered down." He added as he continued to approach, remaining balanced despite the soft tilt of the ship. Isarai's eyes fervidly watched the tray. She realised how hungry she actually was as her belly emit a low rumble, causing Avir's lips to curl into a charming, albeit knowing grin. Myhlea leaned back in order to let the blood elf set the tray upon Isarai's lap, staring down at his choice of food.

The Priestess nodded with approval. "Ah! That will do wonders for her throat. Thank you, Avir."

Isarai's hungry gaze continued to ogle the soup. She willed her aching arm to grab her spoon, initiating some form of self-torture as her hand and the spoon wobbled, slowly reeling the soup into her mouth. The Priestess was right, though Isarai was wrong about the water. This was the true heaven. Isarai withheld the moan lodged in her throat, seeking only another mouthful of the tomato-goodness. She could very faintly detect traces of melted cheese in the liquid, a dish only a certain human had introduced her to. She shot Ruthios a side-eye.

The human shrugged. "I refused to leave your side and he wanted to be helpful." His head-tilt motioned in Avir's direction. Isarai accepted this, beginning to spoon up her third mouthful. "Thank you," Her crackling voice whispered.

"Anytime," Avir chimed, setting his thumbs into the loops of his breaches. "I'll have to try that myself sometime." His head dipped to the unusual looking soup, a faint look of confusion lingering in his eyes. He never knew of any soup with cheese in before…

"Do you remember what happened?" Myhlea quizzed the blue-eyed elf, who was still absorbed in her food. Fortunately, not enough for Isarai to ignore her, responding to Myhlea with a curt nod.

"You hit your head quite hard," The Priestess elaborated upon what she guessed Isarai would not remember. "On top of the concussion you had from days prior, I've had to keep you under a sleeping spell in order for you to recover."

Isarai blinked, only briefing pausing in her efforts to fill her tummy. Her soup was half gone already, yet she felt she could tackle at least five more bowls. She secretly hoped there would be more. "How long?"

"Three days," Ruthios grumbled. "You certainly took your time. I was starting to think you were pretending for the sake of being lazy."

Isarai ever so softly smirked, her eyes narrowing at him in play. "And get out of work? I think I could go for another power nap , now you mention it..."

"No, you don't," Ruthios feigned a chastise, gripping her wrist a little harder. "Myhlea has been catering to your needs the past few days." Isarai nodded with understanding. She would be significantly less embarrassed if it had been the Priestess dressing and cleaning her than others. She resisted looking in Avir's direction, her focus returning to her soup.

"Thank you," She said again, peeking over at the blue-skinned beauty. Warmness shone through her winged eyes as her smile grew bright. She shook her head in a way that silently informed Isarai to stop being silly.

"You needed all the rest you could get," Myhlea added.

Isarai couldn't help but glance at Twinkles, curious of her part in this, who had since taken up the polishing of her gun. Myhlea frowned with disapproval, for she could already see stains emerging from the gnome's corner of the bed.

Ruthios' answered the high elf's silent question. "She's been keeping me company. She', too, specialises in engineering."

"Bet y'peachy butt I do," Twinkles sang, squinting a single eye as she daringly peeked into the barrel of the gun, then moved it to her lips to give it a firm blow.

Isarai grimaced. The last thing she wanted to think of was her surrogate father's butt. Avir and Twinkles shared a snicker at the elf's comical expression.

Isarai instead distracted herself, allowing her frazzled brain to ponder on the events of that night. The memories were hazy, but coherent. The naga assault. Falling into the water. She paused. "Is Karona alright?" She couldn't help but ask, now recalling that the Orcess, too, had tumbled from the ship and into the depths.

Myhlea nodded. "She recovered well. She has since been keeping to herself in her quarters. It seems to be a natural occurrence for Orcs to shy away from aid." The night elf's tone was slightly bitter.

Isarai nodded. That, she could relate to. She glanced back to her soup and continued to recollect her thoughts, remembering the trio of naga she had encountered beneath the surface. She recalled firing her gun, until the memories grew everfoggier the more she continued to piece them together from the internal jumble, but she very faintly held memory of the muscular, golden-haired blood elf crouching atop of her, the two now on the deck, as she embarrassingly heaved her lungs up. Isarai's cheeks flushed.

"Are you alright?" Myhlea's voice became worried as Isarai's face contorted.

Isarai's expression sobered. She didn't feel the need to enhance and express her mortification. Despite a soft voice at the back of her head nagging that the Blood Knight had likely seen worse, she couldn't help but feel shame that the incident would be a lasting memory of his. At that moment, with her arms aching, her face sullen and her ears lowered, bed-bound and injured for the second time before the excursion had even began, she couldn't help but feel useless. She turned to Ruthios, though remained quiet.

The human took her que, and glanced to the others. "If you three wouldn't mind, we would appreciate some privacy." Avir's brow quirked, and the gnome continued to play ignorant. Isarai couldn't help but feel the urge to give her a kick, internally cursing at the fact that her legs felt too heavy to even twitch her toes.

"Of course," Myhlea hopped up in an instance. "Please, do not hesitate to ask if you need anything." The Priestess shot the gnome a look. Twinkles tried to pretend not to notice, until all eyes were on her.

"Fine!" She squeaked with exasperation. "Eesh, why can't I get in on the heart to hearts?" The pink-haired gnome muttered with clear annoyance. Avir glanced Isarai once more, seeking to gaze into her azure eyes for just a moment, but she seemed to be avoiding him. For a reason unknown, this left him with a remarkable pinch of irritability. He stifled it and followed out after the gnome, his expression calculatingly blank. Myhlea joined his heels in their retreat, satisfied that her patient's requests were being met as she pulled the door to behind her.

Isarai waited until their footsteps grew faint and quiet, though only continued to stare down at her bowl, fiddling with the spoon and leaving slight patterns in the setting liquid.

Ruthios interjected the silence. "What is it?"

"I shouldn't be here," Isarai admitted, her voice curt. She knew it was better to just have the brunt of her problems out there in the moment than to prolong, hide or delay them. She elaborated before he could demand further of her. "I feel useless. Incompetent. Mortified, even." Her voice lowered into a slight husk, her ears joining her voice as they dipped.

Ruthios' brows furrowed, though his stare was soft and his voice one of understanding. Isarai couldn't help but be grateful that Ruthios never sugarcoated or excused her own or even his feelings or the logic behind them, forever doing anything he could to make her feel better without stifling her reasons. "I can see why you may feel that way. I understand you wish to make a good impression, not in regards to who you are, but your capability."

"Synora has a point," Isarai continued, withholding a tension-breaking smirk, for she wanted to remain serious despite Ruthios' look of bewilderment at the Lady potentially being right about something. "I'm serious. I don't see why I was asked for when I'm not a Magistrix or a veteran, like you."

Ruthios shrugged. "Young blood." He excused, causing Isarai to roll her eyes. He squeezed her wrist again, signalling her attention. She looked at him with a lost expression, to which even his own look of clear certainty couldn't diminish. "I'm not saying this because I love you, or because I trained you, and neither because I believe in you, but simply because it is the Light's honest truth. You have potential. You're a skilled fighter. When put to the test, you have plenty of tricks up your sleeves that even the finest of swashbucklers couldn't predict. You've proved that to me."

"But not to them…" the elf interrupted. "Sorry." She added, once Ruthios gave her a slight frown.

"Let them underestimate," The human spoke with a sense of clarity and firmness, holding Isarai in place and preventing her from interjecting. "If I didn't think you could handle this I would never have let you come."

"You didn't have a choice."

"And you think that would have stopped me?" Ruthios tilted his head. Isarai couldn't answer, instead turning back to the bowl. "Valein said so himself, you were requested personally by his superiors and officers of the Alliance _and_ Horde. You are known, and they have put their faith of Azeroth's survival into all of us."

"Do they know what I am?" Isarai's heart wrenched, her voice slick with disgust. A hidden mark at the base of her inner wrist tingled. She had not looked at it in so long, that she had almost forgotten.

Ruthios winced at the known memory. He shook his head. "What you _were,_ " he corrected. "Not only was that a long time ago, but it was out of your control."

Isarai closed her eyes, which had begun to grow tearful. Though this did not help their heaviness, it did settle the dull, dry sting from them. She took a moment, then blinked away the tears and forced the memory of hoods, chains and darkness from her mind.

"I'll never let anything like that happen again." Ruthios challenged, stirring her to open her eyes as he held her hand, stroking the mark, which was expertly hidden by a bandage. "You are stronger now."

Isarai shut her eyes once more, only to look at Ruthios with an empty gaze. "I'll have to give my thanks to Anirion."

Ruthios nodded, unphased by the sudden change of topic, for he had long grown use to Isarai's evasive nature. "When we reach land we can go scouting, find something of use or taste." Isarai's ears pricked, content with that idea. Ruthios had always raised her to respect those who risked their own lives for others. "Not that haven't said it enough to him already. Prideful, he may be, but I'm sure he will find a favour for me to reluctantly abide to in the near future. Blood Elves are cunning in that regard."

"I may owe you a favour myself if I get you into too much trouble," Isarai smirked. Ruthios responded with a grin of his own, causing the slight gathering of wrinkles to heartily deepen from their usual cold mask. A treasure only Isarai got to bare witness to.

"I can handle it." He assured. "Sunstrike is quite agreeable to your presence, actually, despite his allegiances."

Isarai couldn't help but grimace. "Hopefully me making a complete ass of myself and throwing up seawater wouldn't have changed that…"

"Doubtful. Though since when did you care what the Horde thought of you?" The elder male raised his brow, for he frequently encouraged Isarai to not give a damn of what others thought of her, particularly for the race she was, Horde and Alliance alike. "Or anyone, for that matter."

Isarai shrugged, sympathising with his confusion, for she felt it too. "I'm just as baffled as you are. Normally, it wouldn't bother me, but…" She trailed off, only to sigh and heave her shoulders into a delicate shrug. "Maybe it's the close proximity, y'know. Working together."

Ruthios offered her a shrug of his own. "I wouldn't let their prejudice define you."

"I know," She reassured with a tired, soft smile. She gave his hand a squeeze, only for her tone to turn lecturing. "When was the last you slept?"

"Irrelevent," He quipped, his face cold as she snorted.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes in a teenaged fashion. "You should sleep."

"I'm fine," his voice was but a mutter, and he had began to rub at the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Isarai guessed he had had this conversation with numerous people the past few days, but she didn't care. She set down her spoon and raised her hands in a surrender-like motion, wiggling her fingers.

"Look," she instructed, and he did. "I'm alive. I'm awake. I'm eating, breathing, and still the same old Izzy you know and adore. Can't you just spare a bit of time getting some shut eye? Fatigue is a killer." Isarai's smile was sweet and innocent as she played him with his own cards. The human couldn't help but mutter something incoherent to himself, as he eased back into his chair in a manner that was beneficial to somehow gaining comfort.

"Fine, but I'm staying here."

"That's fine," she reassured, then glanced down in search. Her satchel was near his feet. He followed her line of sight, stooping down to scurry through her belongings. She had nothing to hide from him, and nothing to say as he passed her the one and only book she desperately had to bring with her on every adventure they went on. The corners were tattered, and the spine had undergone surgery numerous times in order to survive every step, in any weather, under any threat or circumstance Isarai reeled it along with. "Thank you." She chirped as he handed her the worn tome.

"Eat your soup," He ordered, forcing his eyes to shut. The soft clink of Isarai's spoon to the bowl reassured him that she followed his instruction as she read. By the time Ruthios succumbed to a much needed slumber, Isarai was invested in her book, despite how she knew every chapter, sentence and word within it like the back of her own hand.

For once, despite a looming headache and a sore throat, she felt content.

* * *

Their footsteps crunched to the rocky pathway in unison as the group marched onwards. Isarai kept her hooded head low, but her ears perked and eyes wide with alertness. Ruthios had taken lead in front of her, with Anirion and Chyri taking Valein's flanks at the very front. In the middle was herself and Myhlea, with Avir to Myhlea's flank, and Synora at the other, begrudgingly so as her expression was ever as sour, occasionally heightening should the narrow pathway encourage this proximity. At the groups' flank, Kailen, Karona and Twinkles remained somewhat vigilant. Isarai had to respect Kailen's patience as the gnome chattered on and on, content that one of her two walking buddies at least had the decency to answer the gnome's occasionally intrusive and sexualised questions, whilst Karona did her best to ignore and resist punching the pink-haired runt into the distance and down the hills of which they scaled.

Isarai had barely listened to any conversation within the group, or even any directed to her. It was not for the sake of ignorance or subtlety, but due to the fact that the mesmerisation Azsuna offered. Haunting idyllic, with plains of lush grasslands imposed with soft streams that neither seemed to run or hold still. The breeze in the air was soft, not too warm nor too cold, and in this breeze, melodic whispers and voices caressed passerby ears, embelling the beautiful lands with an age old feeling of nostalgia. Isarai knew these once treasured lands were tinged with death, for the hairs standing upright at the back of her neck, influenced by the feeling of being watched, were not undermined by the scenic beauty. The blue sky above them had long since faded, turning a soft orange-pinky colour, with a distant colour of violet piercing the furthest of the skies, looming and steadily approaching as the group scouted for a sufficient camping spot.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Myhlea whispered, leaning towards Isarai, despite still towering over the littler elf. Isarai had no response other than that of a dumbfounded nod as the group scaled the hill a little higher. Valein called the group to a stop with a raise of his closed fist, blindly turning his head to the right. The land carved itself into a smaller dip, between two inclines, with the trees ahead shadowing the tiny dip. Valein called the group to move once more in unison, towards the narrow gap between the two hills. Isarai was careful to not trip over a tree root as they passed through, having to go one by one, only for the earthen chasm to give way to a small, remote clearing.

The Illidari sniffed at the air and turned his head in a fashion that depicted he was observing with a sight the others did not possess. The archers remained ready to fire at his command, relaxing only when Valein spoke up. "It's safe. Sunstrike, shadow Karona, you're on wood collection. I want a fire up before the sun sets. Ala'nor, Twinkles, Kailen, I want you three to secure the area surrounding the camp. Myhlea, you look exhausted, and as our primary medic you need all the rest you can get. Please, see to that. The rest of us are on tent duty. Get to work."

Isarai rolled her satchel off of her shoulder, letting it hit the ground where she stood. Ruthios made haste in acquiring his and Isarai's tent. With expert knowledge and countless times practicing, the two had a tent up almost seconds quicker than Valein and Avir did. Isarai couldn't help but grin smugly as the two men groaned and whined at their loss. Synora had yet to contribute, and for a moment Isarai wondered if she even had a tent with her, let alone not know how to prepare one. Yet as Isarai stopped and stared at her, and initiated an approach, Synora flipped her wrist. A compartment of one of her bags sprouted forth, assembling itself into a tent Isarai would deem too luxurious for excursions as grizzly at this one. Synora upturned her nose in the air, her skirts whipping with her as she wandered into her tent, which was high enough to simply walk into.

Valein threw down two more tents that had yet to be structured. He waved Ruthios over, who took a moment of silent cursing before eventually moving over to the Illidari. Isarai fiddled with two opposing poles, poking her tongue out in concentration. She tried to ignore the fact that this part was best done with _two_ people, too lost in her task to predict Avir's approach.

"Valein said to switch," He purred, catching Isarai off-guard. Her hand slipped, causing one of the sticks to bonk her on the head. The male elf caught the second pole before she could receive another. He snorted. "Is there a target on your forehead that I don't know about?"

"You would think so…" She sighed, reaching up to rub at the soft spot, casting her gaze downwards as embarrassment once more began to prickle her tummy.

Avir offered her a charming smile, holding the pole where Isarai needed it. She gratefully smiled, and began to loop the rope and adjust the tent accordingly until it faintly resembled a makeshift tent. She began to adjust and smooth out the fabric accordingly. The blood elf held it stable while she worked. "You're better at this than I am. That said, have it my way, I'd be happy sleeping in a tree."

"Ancient elven instinct," Isarai nodded. "Ruthios tells me that I all too often snuck out of my bunk to instead try to fall asleep on top of one of the lower branches of the apple tree we have in our garden."

"Surprised the falling apples didn't wake you up," Avir chuckled, using his knuckles to rasp twice against his skull.

Isarai winced, her nose wrinkling. "They would, sometimes." Avir's grin grew wider, and something about it caused Isarai the need to shuffle on her feet and look away. She pretended to smooth out another, invisible crease on the tent's side.

"How is your head?" He asked, tilting his head in an effort to catch her eyes with his own. To his annoyance, she was able to keep her gaze averted, a trait he usually wouldn't have difficulty with: maintaining a woman's attention.

"Better," she answered, her answer simple, a clear tell-tale for him to brush the topic away.

He took the hint, reverting to an earlier aspect of the conversation. "I'm guessing you and Blythe are frequent travellers?"

Isarai nodded. "It's part of my training."

"And what is your training? You never did say the first day we met." He prodded, causing Isarai to shrug. "Only this shadowdancin' thing. You a cultist in disguise, or something?"

Isarai blanched, her eyes narrowing in an almost feline-like nature. "No!" She snapped. This did little to truly surprise Avir, somewhat glad he finally found a sensitive spot to her otherwise shrouded personality, and even more glad at the fact that this caused the blonde to actually look at him. His lips began to curl, slightly apologetic as he leaned close, his breath fanning her face.

"Sorry, sorry," He reassured with humor. "I can't help but be curious, Isarai. You're so.. Strange. And unknown."

Isarai's expression flickered slightly with offense. "Strange? Unknown?" She repeated.

"Mysterious," he rephrased with haste, his smile growing ever sweeter. Isarai, usually resistant to a male's charm, couldn't help but feel her anger dissipate. Just a little. She tried to turn away, only for Avir's hand to gently cup her chin, seeking to stare into her azure eyes with his emerald ones.

He held her stare for a moment, and her breath had since been caught in her throat, unable to escape. His eyes raked her expression, her every feature, and despite his initial curiosity at any potential differences between her and him, the only one he could really detect was their eyes. And yet, despite his races prejudices, hers were beautiful, open and sea-like, void of any emotion without being interpreted as cold, merely distant and enticing. Her lashes were long, framing the same mystery that she radiated as a whole. She had since tried to turn once more, but Avir prolonged the moment by moving his hand upwards, tickling the curvature of her face, holding her in place long enough for his eyes to dip to her lips. Full, rosie, and utterly kissable. Her cheeks were plump, and moulded into the flesh of his palm as his hand trickled upwards, seeking to tuck a fallen lock of platinum hair behind an ear, more suited to the messy bun the elf had tossed her hair up into, exposing the tight but soft curve of her jawline, her chin rounded. He began to move in, only for Isarai to finally release her breath, rejecting his advances as she forced her body to turn back to the tent, where she double-checked the loop of rope around the two poles.

Infuriated, Avir's expression became bleak. Isarai noticed, and her ears lowered. "Did I do something wrong?" He asked coolly.

Isarai bit down into her lip. She wanted to shake her head, but she knew she would then be telling a lie. Instead, she sighed prior to speaking, her voice low as she took a skeptical glance across the clearing, satisfied upon seeing Valein and Ruthios chat lowly amongst themselves, nearly done building the second tent. "No, it's.. Well. We don't know eachother."

"Does it matter?" Avir moved closer, angling his head in a way that would make it appear he was looking in an opposing direction, close enough to brush the side of his body against Isarai's, with everything bar his chest and Isarai's upper body hidden by the tent. His hand scaled the length of her back, causing her to shudder. He cupped his hand just above her rear. He grit his teeth as Isarai held her body tense and stiff, for he was used to women melting into his arms by now.

"Of course it matters," her voice grew curt, and he could tell by her steely expression that he had once angered her, which angered him.

"We don't need to know each other to be attracted to one another," He loosely defended. "This could be the end of the world as we know it. Are you that stiff-lipped enough to not throw caution to the wind and have some fun?"

"Is that all I am?" Isarai quizzed him, to which caught him off guard. He stared down at her with an expression that was as unreadable as his own. Her eyes narrowed once more, exposing but a fragment of her anger.

"Perhaps I was wrong about you," He stated. He gave the tent a single look, using his shoulder to ever so slightly brush her away. He ducked his head low, despite his expression remaining empty. "Thank you for your help but I can take it from here."

Annoyed, Isarai ground her teeth together. Part of her began to feel guilty, another wished she had simply said nothing and allowed him to kiss her, while the rest of her heart willed her brain to land a right-hook to his handsome face. Instead, she twirled on her feet and returned to the initial tent she and Ruthios set up. Angrily, she began to prepare a large, singular bed within the small space, setting and smoothing out a large blanket, placing another atop of it.

She heard the faint shuffle of fabric, and was about to tell the charming brunette male to politely fuck off, until she noticed Myhlea's head poking through the entry, her smile sheepish. "Valein said I am to bunk with you and Mr. Blythe, if that would be acceptable?"

Isarai forced a smile. The Priestess neglected to question the little elf, noticing how her smile did not reach her blank blue eyes. "Of course. Do you need a blanket?" Isarai began to strip one of the sheets. She and Ruthios would survive without…

Myhlea shook her head. "No, no. I came quite prepared, thank you." The night elf ducked considerably low in order to get into the tent. Eventually, she gave up and found it easier to slink onto her knees. "Oh!" She gasped in surprise. "It's.. quite cozy. You are sure there will be room for the three of us?"

Isarai's shrug was nonchalant. For some reason, she didn't seem to dread the idea of Myhlea's proximity tonight. "Least we'll be warm."

"That is true," Myhlea chuckled, setting her belongings aside as far as she could from the middle of the tent, unwilling to take up much room despite her imposing stature. "I tend to sleep curled up, much like a kitten, regardless. However, if I do stir just give me a firm kick. I'm a deep sleeper, but I can take a hint even in slumber."

"Good to know," Isarai couldn't help but chuckle. Myhlea returned the gesture with a warm smile.

"I can prepare you some tea in the morning, if you would like?" The night elf requested. "Full of natural herbs, of which are very energising. Perfect as a side to breakfast, and will help you for whatever tomorrow will hold."

"Appreciated." Isarai said, nodding with acceptance. "I'm usually a coffee drinker."

"I wouldn't have guessed, your teeth aren't stained." The Priestess' nose wrinkled, causing Isarai to laugh.

"Not a fan?"

The night elf shook her head. "Repulsive stuff. It makes me shake like a leaf on a tree in a storm. And, I have tended to countless of patients who practically rely on the stuff. That, and tobacco. Why destroy the only body you have?"

"I'm sure it isn't _that_ bad, minus the tobacco."

Myhlea shook her head. "You won't persuade me otherwise, so are now a freshly converted tea-drinker!"

"Noted," Isarai smirked. She found herself quite comfortable in Myhlea's company. She welcomed the feeling, for it wasn't often the high elf met someone she was sincerely fond of, and could openly trust. Perhaps it was the fact that she was a Priestess, a devotee of Elune and her practice's, something which Isarai had always been curious in. Despite prejudices, Isarai couldn't help but be fascinated by her anciently distant, dark-skinned kin.

Activity outside of the tent alerted the two, who both looked at the entry in unison. "It seems the others are back. Shall we?" Myhlea inquired, smiling towards Isarai. The elf nodded and followed her larger friend's suit, to where the rest of their campmates had since trickled into or around their chosen housing. Karona and Anirion occupied the middle, with Synora having decided to finally aid them as they worked together to get a fire going. Smoke began to billow from the sizzling sticks, and it was not long before the group had a fire on the go, with a skinned carcass on rotate. The rest of the group had finalised assorting their goods, shedding some aspects of armour in order to get comfortable. The air was chilly, but the fire provided a cozy warmth that led to the gathering of several of the campmates, even Synora.

Valein began to distribute drinks. "Just the one," he instructed to them all as the bag was opened. It was an ale that was not familiar to Isarai, and predictability cheap and watered down, but still enough of a treat to consume without rendering any of it's consumers intoxicated.

Isarai cupped her bottle with both hands, staring deep and longingly into the fire. She felt her eyes close, enjoying the way the warmth tickled her fingers and the tip of her nose. Suddenly, Twinkles' voice pinged in the air. "I'd say if we're gonna be workin' together, we should play a game."

"Another game?" Chyri half-whined with regret. She was certain her rump was still bruised from the descent of the bench nights earlier.

Twinkles snickered. "Not the drinkin' kind! It's called Gettin' to Know You."

"That sounds irrevocably cheesy," Synora sniffed, though her interest was caught. "How do you play?"

"Just take turns askin' questions, really. Usually, there's a dice involved but I think we're all big and ugly enough to play fair."

"I'm up for it," Valein nodded, seemingly quite relaxed.

"I'm not sure if this would count as a question…" Myhlea began with a tilt of her head. The group turned silent and looked at her, a telltale sign for her to continue. "Valein, you are… possibly one of the more relaxed commanders I have seen. Your methods are unusually gentle, and I do hope you take no offense but quite contrary to the brutality and… perilous ways I have been told of."

Valein shrugged. "It's a good question. I guess I could cut the answer short by saying that for starters, I ain't really a commander. I'm a respected tactician among the Illidari, but you said it yourself. I ain't really got that... expendable way of things. In my previous life, every life unscathed was a victory in itself."

Synora snorted, though Valein's answer made Isarai respect more and fear the brash Illidari a little less.

"It's a welcoming change," Chyri agreed.

"Fear is a compelling tool," Synora objected, though did nothing to elaborate.

"Almost makes me want to ask why you became an Illidari," Isarai spoke out, the rest of the group looked Valein's way, who simply exposed his sharp teeth with a wide grin.

"Two questions in one go," He shook his head, and looked over at Synora. "Ever had a nickname?"

"No. That would do nothing but belittle me," She huffed. "It would also defeat the purpose of possessing a name in the first place." Without missing a beat, Isarai felt Synora stare at her. "Speaking of, what is this _shadowdancer_ malarkey?"

Isarai blinked, and suddenly felt uncomfortable as the group all looked with the same level of curiosity. Avir, included, as he actually stared at her for the first time since their earlier confrontation. The little elf shrugged, which in turn caused Synora to glower. Hastily, she began to answer. "It's.. a party trick, I guess."

"An illusion, then?" Synora pestered, beginning to tilt her head in scrutiny, her fellish eyes raking over Isarai's form. "You do not strike me as a caster."

"I'm not," Isarai explained. "That doesn't mean I'm not capable."

"Interesting…" Synora audibly mused, though her tone gave off absolutely no interest whatsoever, and her expression was one of incredible boredom.

Isarai's mind raced for a question, her eyes brightening for but a second as she initially came to look for who to ask first. Her eyes landed on Anirion, who sat in a hunched fashion, staring intensely down at the flames. The orange glow of the flames bounced off of the arches of his face, causing half of them to be shrouded with soft shadows. Even in the soft light, he looked stern, but something in his gaze caught her off-guard. His eyes held of the same barren veil as her own, but his was more cold and calculating. She had not yet thought of him as physically attractive, but a glimmer of Anirion's posture and expression seemed to relax, causing the tension in his face to simmer to something unrecognizable, but he was not calm. No, something in his relaxed stance succumbed Isarai to an unwarranted feeling of calamity. For a moment, she wanted to ask him what had gone wrong in his life, and her more sympathetic nature wanted to inquire of what remedy would be the cure. She had another idea, however.

"What's your favourite food?" Isarai couldn't deny feeling somewhat idiotic at how bland of a question it was, and it had caused a few of the group to emit a chuckle. She felt even more of an idiot when Anirion didn't realise he was being asked, the tension in his face returning upon the night elf besides him, Kailen, urging Anirion's attention with a slight nudge of his elbow.

Anirion stared up, wondering who had asked the question before Isarai softly cleared her throat. She suddenly felt under pressure, with those hawk-like eyes staring into what felt like her soul. "What?" He asked with a sharpness to his tone.

"Um," Isarai's ears fell back. Anirion grit his teeth, finding a small part of him infuriated at her seemingly incompetent nature. "Your… favourite food. What is it?"

Anirion couldn't help but quirk his brow at such an irrelevant, futile question. "Of all the things to ask, _that_ is what you come out with?" He asked, his voice still ever as harsh. Isarai bristled, but refused to back down as she held his imposing stare. He sighed. If this little high elf was anything, stubborn was the word. "I don't know." There was a slither of honesty in his answer, seeing as he had never considered it for himself. "I ate what I was given growing up and continue to do so."

Isarai nodded, unwilling to pester. Anirion tried to return to his solitude, but Kailen nudged him again. The blonde male growled and rolled his eyes. "For fuck sake, alright! You." He angled his chin just off of Isarai's side, directing Ruthios, who met him with an equally stern glare. "Why do you care for her? As far as I am aware, Quel'dorei are just as detested among the Alliance as they are the Horde."

Isarai felt a pinch of hurt, quickly overcome by anger. _What is your problem?_ She wanted to ask, but given their races' history, she thought it a pointless question. "Everyone's a historian when it comes to war…" She simply muttered.

"Hear, hear," Myhlea backed her up with a proud smile.

"Snap," Valein grinned.

Ruthios had not yet answered, and instead held Anirion's gaze in his own for a few moments longer. "Her parents were prestige fighters during the Second War, and even greater during the Third. Unlike most elves, they had a close partnership with many members of the Alliance, even before the outcast of their people. It was only natural for their daughter to do the same."

Isarai's gaze drifted. Unusually, she had never shown much curiosity for her parents, despite having of heard this all before, but she didn't want her history shared. Her lack of allegiance to Quel'thalas and her brethren already earnt her the reputation of a traitor and coward. She set a hand on Ruthios' knee, her tone unusually authorative. "Ruthios is all the family I need."

Synora sniffed yet again. "Take into account of the luxuries you could have, if you were return to your true homeland, and use the utilities you… regrettably have at your disposal."

Isarai resisted the urge to blush. "Utilities?" Twinkles asked, confused as well as curious. The high elf remained quiet, though almost as if he understood, Valein spoke. His voice was almost mocking, soft and delicate, with a hint of laughter behind his words.

"And you, Miss Silvermoon, would have her?"

"I never said that." She hissed in defense. "And no, I would not."

"You're missing a _no offence_ there…" Valein reminded.

"All offence intended," Synora seethed.

Isarai sighed. "Alright, aside from me being a high elf, what is your problem?"

" _That_ is precisely the problem!"

"Well, it's becoming tiredsome. Childish, even." Isarai chided. "And somewhat predictable. I know you have some witty, snarky remark on your tongue just waiting to be fired off. Go on, hit me with it. I'm sure it's hilariously belittling."

Synora glowered harder, but remained quiet as she quietly loathed the little elf. Isarai rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the fire.

Ruthios smirked, then looked over at Myhlea. "Have you always been a Priestess?"

Myhlea shook her head, happy to sway away from the confrontation brewing between the smaller, paler elves. "Actually, no. I was once an archer."

"Really, sister?" Kailen's silver brows plucked in surprise.

"Really, really," She giggled. "Although, not a very good one. Elune, however, ensured I would make an adequate medic."

"You're not too bad at fighting, either," Isarai added, causing Myhlea to emit an impish, almost shy smile.

"Thank you, Isarai. It's always better to hope for the best, but prepare for the worse. I'll pass on my question as I started the game. Kailen?"

Kailen nodded, glancing his campmates. He took a glimpse at his blood elven counterpart, Chyri. She gawked at him with a polite, yet weary expression. "What made you become a Farstrider?"

Chyri shrugged. "I used to enjoy flinging rocks from a makeshift slingshot at the boys in my village, who likewise thought it would be funny to poke and prod us with fencing swords. I guess I developed a keen eye for it, and took up the second closest thing. I like to think the path I took with it, aside from becoming your regular huntress, meant I could support and protect Quel'thalas."

"Two birds one stone, in a sense?" The male night elf asked, and he couldn't help but respect the blood elf's choices, as similiar to his own.

Chyri nodded. "Quite right." She turned to Karona. "Are you under any Horde organisations?"

"No," That was it for Karona's answer, and only created more curiosity that it sated. Isarai wanted to ask why she was here, and who she worked for, but feared it would only shatter what little mutual respect they had for one another. "Pass." The Orcess grunted.

"My turn!" The gnome bounced, tearing a piece of meat from the many strips upon her paper plate. She licked one of her grease-coated fingers with an audible, wet pop. "What do you guys think I should build next? Rocket-fuel generated pingpong paddles, or-"

"Whatever the other option is, it cannot be anymore useless than that." Synora interrupted.

"I wasn't finished, lady! Ping-pong paddles, or a submarine in the style of an inflatable duck."

"I'd go with the duck," Isarai said with a smirk. "Give it laserbeams for eyes, and I may stand a chance against any naga in the future."

"... I'll give you a 10-90 cut in profit for the laserbeam idea."

"40-50." Isarai grinned, to which Twinkles whined.

"No way! 25-75?"

"... 30-70?"

"Fine!" The gnome yielded. "Eesh, you haggle too much."

"Don't ask, don't get." Kailen said with a smile, while Valein looked up at the sky.

"As fun and anti-militant as I said I was, I think it would be best for light's out." The Illidari instructed. "I want you all fresh-faced and early rising, after all. We will take shifts on night watch, starting with myself. Any volunteers?"

Anirion stood with a nod, and it didn't surprise Isarai to notice that he had neglected shedding his armour. "Alright," Valein praised. "I'll need another two. Ah! Synora, thank you for volunteering."

"You appear to have me mistaken," She chimed and began to move towards her tent, only for Valein's arm to catch her wrist in an uncomfortable grip. She snarled. "Unhand me, mongrel!"

"You _will_ obey orders," He warned her but once, and it was a warning she seemed to accept despite the blazing fury in her eyes. "Avir, join her. You two take south of camp, Sunstrike and I North."

"Will rotations between joints be necessary?" Kailen quizzed. Valein shook his head.

"The mountains prohibit anything from lurking from the sides, and we have an abundance of traps set up on either. You covered West, yes?"

"I did," Kailen said, confident the area was secure even without a nightwatch. "I'll be happy to take the next rounds."

Valein nodded in approval, gesturing for Anirion to follow his flank. The campmates scuttled into their individual sleeping arrangements, and Isarai was fortunate to realise that despite their tent being quite crowded, it was cozy and neither of them took up too much room. She lay down in the middle of the tent. The floor was hard, only slightly softened by the thin blanket beneath her, though she didn't mind as she allowed herself a few moments to find comfort. Ruthios had opted to sleep with his back to the duo, facing the entry, with his sheathed sword practically cradled to his body. Isarai, though curled slightly close to him, kept her back to him. She could very slightly make out the Priestess' form as the night elf took a moment to get comfy, shooting the pair, despite Ruthios' back being turned, a smile. "Good night, you two."

"Night," Isarai chimed.

Ruthios, ready for sleep the moment his head lay to rest, grunted in reply. Isarai resisted the urge to tell Myhlea not to mind him, for she knew the two would end up talking until the early hours, and she didn't fancy Ruthios kicking her faintly aching legs. The little elf's lips parted in a yawn, and she snuggled her head deep into the softer part of the satchel she was using as a pillow, drawing the blankets a little higher over her body. It was not long before sleep claimed the trio, with nothing but the gentle swoosh of wind in the air, and slight tousle of the tent's fabric.


	7. Chapter 7: A Thousand Eyes

_The stench of rot and decay filled the air, causing every inhale urging her body to recoil, filling her with the need to vomit. Her torn slacks felt damp and cold against the wet, cobbled floor. Her head was hung forth and her shoulders and arms ached with a burning intensity, her body slumped with all it's weight bared into the chains cuffing her wrists, bounding her to the wall. Her chest heaved, exposing her breathlessness as she fought to regain what little ounce of strength and energy she had left, desperate in her bid to try and fight herself free once more. However, her strength and energy never came, for it all had been sapped out of her through hours of thrashing, pulling and kicking, and not once did the chains weaken their bindings. Instead, the metal had slashed into the flesh of her wrists, with several thin rivers of crimson staining her upbrought arms to the length of her elbows, only to drip into small puddles upon the cobbles beneath._

 _A loud, metallic groan pierced her sensitive ears, spilling a light that was potent enough to momentarily blind her. She squinted until the light faded, rendering her back to darkness. She opened her eyes, which remained hooded with fatigue. Lifting her head to see who had entered her cell seemed impossible, only able to hear the sound of their approaching footsteps. She couldn't make out the feet before her, for they were covered with dark robes that binded their wearer to the shadows._

 _Isarai fearfully closed her eyes, only to feel a frail hand cup her chin. The skeletal digits yanked her head up with an unnatural force, the nails pressing into the flesh of her cheeks and neck enough to leave scratches and draw thin trickles of blood. A goblet was placed to her bruised, purple lips, and the hand squeezed her jaw in a strenuous enough manner to pry the little high elf's mouth open, tipping the contents into her mouth. Some spilled out through her open lips, trickling down her face and onto the hand. It's owner whispered a threat that fell foreign on elvish ears, but held enough malice and promise within it for the fear to spike within Isarai's core. She whimpered, and reluctantly drank the burgundy liquid. It was strong, almost like wine, but tasted far from fruity in nature and hung in her throat like goo, making it hard to swallow without rendering herself into a coughing fit. The hand kept her head craned and her neck arched, until satisfied the captive had consumed an adequate amount._

 _The robe figure let Isarai's head fall forward, returning to her slumped position. It's boney hands then went to the tray at Isarai's feet, picking up a hardened loaf of bread. The near-rotting digits tore a strip from the loaf, and forcibly pushed the food between Isarai's lips and into her mouth. She was too tired to fight back, and her body had hungered for days. She knew she could not handle another punishment, and in order to survive, she would have to obey. The loaf held no taste and felt like a rock in her mouth, causing her teeth and jaws to ache with every bite. She feared the bread would become lodged in her throat, impossibly managing to swallow it. The figure repeated this until at least half of the loaf was eaten, up until Isarai's body convulsed in a manner that suggested she was choking. The hand grabbed her dirt-ridden hair and yoinked, using the greyed platinum strands almost like puppet strings. The remaining hand came up to grab a mug containing water, which even within the limited light did not look clean, but Isarai was in no position to complain, and accepted the water with sudden, desperate gulps. She wanted more. She needed more, but the mug had become empty. She parted her lips to beg, only for one of the slender digit's to press against her lips._

 _Isarai dared to look up at the hooded figure, and through the dim light, she could spot a face. Disfigured, with it's thin, translucent grey flesh clinging to it's skull, leaving almost every facial bone visible, as if it's skin were made out of wet paper. She was unable to tell whether or not they were male or female, and could only spot their nose, cheeks, lips and jaw. Their eyes were concealed, and yet she still had the sensation that they were piercing into her soul, freezing her in place with terror._

" _Ssssssh…" several voices emitted all at once, echoing and filling her with a sense of dread. The hand at her lips fell, the nails raking the arch of her chin, neck and down her cleavage. Her body shivered, and not with pleasure. She began to tremble._

" _Please... " she whimpered yet again, and spoke in no more than a whisper. The fingers gave a taunting wiggle as they trickled to her stomach, only to retract. Isarai exhaled in relief, stifled by a soft cry. She hadn't even realised she had began to visibly cry, with the tears trickling down her face at a rapid rate, however her sobs were silent. The robed figure leaned close until his nose grazed her plump, wettened cheek. She did not feel it's tongue protrude out in order to swipe her cheek, and instead she felt it. It felt cold, slick and grime-like. Isarai urged to keep the cry at the back of her throat, for she knew the consequences. The figure licked up the tears at the right side of her face, then retreated back into the shadows._

 _Isarai's chest raised to expel a forcefully quiet wail, letting her head fall back against the brick wall behind her, out of frustration and distraction. The pain did nothing to compensate for the horrors, and the need to throw up returned. She did not want to bring up her only source of food so early, and instead forced her teeth to clamp shut. Her eyes fell shut once more. Silence filled the air, providing her with a sense of welcome solitude. It was then the feeling felt all wrong. Isarai snapped her eyes open, only to see a thousand staring back at her. Immediately, whispers upon whispers assaulted her mind._

 _He hates you..._

 _Eternal sleep awaits you._

 _You killed them..._

 _We will meet in the abyss._

 _Destroy THEM!_

 _You will be more than you are._

 _YOU ARE UNWORTHY._

 _Join us in the Shadows…_

 _DESPAIR AND SORROW WILL REIGN THE SPIRALS OF YOUR DREADED SOUL!_

" _Stop…" she begged._ "STOP!"

Isarai shot up, panting heavily. Her wide eyes pierced the wall of the tent with complete terror, and her slick hands came up to cup over her lowered ears as she timidly rocked back and forth, fighting to keep the whimpers and sobs at bay. "Just a dream… just a dream…" she whispered to herself, muffling her words as her head hung against her knees. Her hands then found eachother, as she rubbed at her scarred wrists. She swore for a second she could still feel a deep ache within them, only for the pain to vanish. Isarai pressed her eyes with such a force that she saw little spots of white through the black, which only went on to remind her of the thousand eyes, prompting her to snap her eyes back open.

Shakily, Isarai moved to carefully climb over Myhlea's peacefully slumbering form. She thanked her lucky stars that both the Priestess and Ruthios were deep sleepers, and she hastily exited the tent. The fresh air hit her with a pleasant force, nurturing the slickness of her palms and the bundling perspiration causing her hair to stick to the back of her neck and forehead. She looked around to see if she was being watched, but those who weren't on watch duty were sleeping soundly in their own tents. Thankful, Isarai shut her eyes and stood there for a moment to enjoy the breeze cascading her flushed skin. However, it was not long before a faint slapping sound fell to her ears. It became repetitive, and was coming from the southern area of the camp. Curious, Isarai followed in the direction…

* * *

Frustration.

The sensation was raw in his body, and caused his loins to ache, his teeth to grit and his mind to seeth thoughts of hatred, annoyance and impatience. Usually, Avir had no trouble wooing women, no matter how short of time they had knew each other. Be it five minutes or five hours, in that time he would of had them drop to their knees to tend to his every need at least once within that time frame. Yet this time it was different.

Of course, Avir was not shy of a challenge, but his need grew increasingly to an almost unbearable amount, and for the life of him, he couldn't think of where he was going wrong. If his looks were not enough, his charm was, and where his looks and charm couldn't match, his prowess in combat, knowledge of alchemy and roguish demeanor made up in order to sway his more arduous and hard to please lovers. And yet, his accomplishments with Isarai were unpredictable. He knew she was inexperienced, which only made her all the more desirable, yet five minutes with her was absolute torture. Victory in sight one minute, and the next she was looking at him with an anger that almost made her a woman unhinged.

Avir maintained his position, with his thumbs looped into his belt, his back straight and his ears pointed to the skies. His thoughts drifted, though he was on high alert, and the grass behind him from the clearing swished as a soft fabric grazed upon them with a movement of grace. For a moment, he expected his blonde had finally come to her senses, but with the slight turn of his neck he was able to catch sight of his approacher, who stood too tall to be his most desired.

"I thought you had taken your leave, Lady Dawngrave," Avir said, his tone not quite as fluent and smooth as it usually would be, and provided the noblewoman evidence of his internal annoyance.

"And leave you out here to be the victim of your self-pity? Tsk," Synora chimed and shook her head as she stood besides the male, peering up at him with a devious glint in her fellish eyes. "Why, when I can watch and amuse myself?"

"Of course, I had forgotten you take pleasure in mockery." Avir rolled his eyes, as he only became more irritable. He had forgotten she were to be his partner during night watch. Usually, the opportunity to be alone with a woman as beautiful as Synora would have sent his primal urges into overdrive, but he only had one prize on his mind for the time being.

Synora angled her neck and leaned close enough for her lips to graze his ears. Naturally, the ghosting of her lips to his flesh caused his loins to stir, a groan trapped in his throat. "What? Did your plaything forget to give Master a kiss goodnight?"

"You saw that then…" Avir's teeth became gritted.

"That and then some," Synora admitted with a pur. She leaned back, only for one of her hands to come up and drift over the buttons of his waistcoat, tickling the flesh where the upper buttons were unclasped, leaving his shirt loose and his chest bare.

"What do you want, Synora? I'm not playing games with you." The male quipped, causing Synora to look at him with a mocking innocence, which only made her all the more tantalising. He internally cursed, for he could see the spell she was weaving with him, and could do nothing to stop it.

"I want you to stop fawning over my lesser," Her voice was blunt, contrary to her angelic apparel. "I could inflict upon you a pain and pleasure potent enough to override your captivation of her, if you would let me." Her body had began to move even closer, until she stood almost before him, her stomach pressed to his hip. She hitched her leg up, brushing her thigh to his hardening crotch, causing a huff of air to escape from his nostrils. "I fail to understand your fidelity to her. You are not bound, and yet you desperately seek her. For what reason, when you could have so much more?" Her voice became husky as she whispered, and her scarlet lips began to softly nip and kiss his neck. Avir's hands could not help themselves, and he took hold of her hips, grounding her sweet centre against his thigh. He could feel her heat even through their clothes, and his mind willed his hands to tear her of her robes and take her with every animalistic urge he possessed.

"She is no ordinary lay," He confided, craning his neck to allow her better access.

"Ah, you wish to claim her," She whispered, and he regretfully nodded in response. "Your ego-driven appetite will only get you so far, and even after you have marked her, what then?" Synora leaned back to monitor his expression, but he had no response other than that of his hand coming up to grapple her breast.

"Nothing." He finally said.

"Then stop torturing yourself and sample something much, much sweeter." She encouraged, grounding her knee into his nethers. With that, he wrapped his arms around Synora's slim form, grinning down at her as her began to herd her towards the treeline, the hunger in his eyes intensified. She avoided his advances as he sought to catch her lips, instead forcing his face into the crook of her neck. He lavished her with his lips and tongue, while his hands worked to strip her. Once she was free of her garments, she flopped onto all fours and presented her slick form to him. He pushed his breeches down just enough to free his member, which pointed directly to Synora's petals. She leaned forward onto her elbows, giving her rear an enticing wiggle.

"Fuck me." She demanded, knowing he would oblige. He clamped one of his hands over her mouth, which fortunately for him was protected from the bite of her teeth as she gnawed at his flesh, all thanks to the thick leather gloves he wore. He kept his hand there, and promptly sheathed himself within her. She thought of him to not be as lengthy as her Illidari mate nights prior, but girthier, stretching her. She rolled her hips, signalling she was ready before Avir pulled his hips back, and shoved his member deep within her with a force enough to cause their skin to smack. It was not long before he picked up a rhythm, with his spare hand feverishly raking her form to grab her breasts, her hips, or to land a vicious smack at her ass which made her squeal with delight. He thrusted and thrusted enough that her eyes had rolled to the back of her head in ecstasy, but he kept his hand in place to ensure her cries were muffled. She had used one of her hands to slip beneath her body, pleasuring herself as he pleasured her, which only made her wet sheath tighten around him. He growled, and his movements became all the more rapid, leaving the only sound in the air a dim, faint smack as his flesh slapped her plump hind, over and over...

* * *

Timidly, Isarai's brows plucked to the unfamiliar noise, and with silent footsteps, she prowled in it's direction. Her hand came silently to her side, where one of the two new daggers Ruthios had provided her awaited for their need. She ducked behind the tent, glancing the small part of the clearing that was empty. Swiftly, she dashed to the closest shadow of the clearing; a tree. Quickly and silently, she scaled the trunk until out of sight, resting upon a branch that provided her the security of stealth, and the ability to be perceptive to those beneath, where the sound came from on the right side.

She peeked down, and her eyes practically bulged out of her head. For directly beneath her and below the branch, lay Synora on all fours. Her back was bare and her hair had spilled to either side of her slim, naked body, shielding onlookers from catching sight of her naked breasts, which bounced and pointed to the lush ground beneath her with each movement. Avir sat on his knees behind her, coiling his hips back and forth as he sharply thrusted into her. His teeth were gritted and one of his hands gripped the lady's hip, while the other muffled her pleasured screams as he ravaged her.

Isarai felt her skin go red, and in panic, she threw her body to the left of the tree. Fortunately, her descent and landing was near silent, overshadowed by the repetitious thumps of Avir's and Synora's bare flesh. The little elf practically stumbled back to the camp, rushing to her tent. Her foot caught the hook of Myhlea's ankle, causing Isarai to belly-flop onto her makeshift bed with an audible 'oof!', but luckily not on Ruthios.

The Priestess shot up with a look of pure shock. She looked left and then right, then to Isarai and Ruthios, who appeared to be sleeping. Isarai held her breath and kept her pained cries at bay from her rough fall. Eventually, the Priestess rubbed her knuckles to an eye, sniffed, and lay back down to return to her deep sleep.

Meanwhile, Isarai couldn't help but lie there, the knots in her stomach twisting with a mixture of emotions. Anger, hurt, disappointment… and an emotion she didn't recognise.

Envy.

* * *

Isarai had tried to find sleep, and only when the visible slit of the violet sky from the tent's flap became the colour of lavender, did she go back outside. She hoped that she had not been spotted, but fortunately for her, Avir and Synora had not yet returned to camp so could not question her of it as of yet.

Through the nagging sense of hurt prickling her pride, she expelled a sigh of relief. The former feeling quickly became dimmed, and the relief prevailed. For now she knew that Avir was no friend or companion of hers, no matter how much he charmed her. The guilt she had experienced following her rejection of him was now obsolete, and she was thankful she had kept her wits about her, as another man failed to away her, no matter how high the temptation.

Isarai looked up and spotted Valein and Anirion in the distance, her brows furrowing as she pondered why they were still on nightwatch. Hesitantly, she walked over to approach them.

Valein heard her first, and peered over his shoulder with a chirpy smile. "Morning, Isarai. I trust you acquired an adequate amount of rest?"

For once, she was glad her commander was blind, for the bags under her eyes would not give her away. Fearfully, she peeked over at Anirion to see if he would give her sleep-deprived state away, but the male elf did little to even acknowledge her, staring out of the chasm.

"I did," she assured, hopeful that her tone was trustful enough for him to accept her lie. "Have you both been up all night?"

"Time flies when you're having fun," Valein chuckles. "I do not require as much sleep as you, and now you are here, I can urge Anirion that he is not quite as invincible." The Illidari turned to the Blood Knight with a charming grin.

Anirion neglected to look his way, turning on heel in order to locate his tent. Isarai was quick to notice that the Blood Knight's sharp, but enticing features held a mask of exhaustion. For a moment, she had wished she'd not tried to return to her sleep, as it looked as if he needed it more.

"Sleep well," Isarai encouraged, to which Anirion replied with a firm grunt. Isarai couldn't help but feel a slight sense of satisfaction that he had actually responded.

"That's more than I could get outta 'im," Valein commented, noticing the exchange. Isarai took stance besides him. He appeared to be looking her way, but the lack of eye contact made the assumption difficult. "Actually, I'm a little glad we get to have some time alone together. Y'know, bondin'."

Isarai couldn't help but stiffen. "I'm afraid I don't make very good company."

"Nonsense," Valein's smirk remained. "Myhlea and Sunborne seem to have taken quite the shine to you."

The little elf shrugged, her arms coming up to loosely fold over her upper abdomen. "Myhlea's… nice." Isarai squinted, then cleared her throat.

Valein nodded. "Mhm, a number of reports entailing her pretty much had her summed up that way. Yours, however… well, it was a little trickier."

"Then why did you choose me?" Isarai quizzed with an arch of her brow. "Ruthios would work much better with me not holding him back."

"Perhaps," Valein mused, giving his cheek a slight scratch. "But he would not leave you alone even if Azeroth herself called for him, and that fact alone made me curious."

"I see… then why was I specifically asked for if you know very little of me?"

Valein twitched. "If I told you that I'd have to kill you," he said with a sick grin, and despite the humour, his demeanor made Isarai cringe. "I'm sure you won't disappoint." The Illidari went on to reassure, his smile becoming more genuine.

Isarai hummed, turning away to keep her eyes upon where Anirion's had been all evening; at the chasm.

"We need a name!" Valein chirped. "Any ideas?" he was met with a shrug, and despite not being able to physically see it, practice alone made him able to distinguish the gesture. "Oh, c'mon. You're worse than Sunstrike! He wouldn't brainstorm with me, either."

"I.. I don't know," Isarai said with a stammer, as words began to race through her head. "The Redsnakes?"

Valein stared at her for a moment until a gust of air spurted from his lips. "You are _terrible_ at this."

"The Azercord?"

" _What?_ " Valein's pitch grew higher. "Is that even a word?"

"It's a mixture of Azeroth and Accord," She explained, her head beginning to tilt. "'Cause we're not just Horde and Alliance, after all."

The Illidari shook his head. "Eh, better, but no."

"Is this not something that _you_ should have come up with before gathering us up?"

"Funnily enough the end of the world doesn't bide you as much time as you think it does." He defended.

"Creativity isn't my forte," Isarai's held back sigh lingered in her throat, causing her tone to come off as airy. "Particularly when it comes to naming things. I had a bird called Petinia as a child."

"Don't you mean Petunia?"

"No, that's the point. I was so adamant that it was pronounced Petinia that I was too stubborn to change it, even when corrected. No wonder that bird fuckin' hated me…"

Valein gave off a cackle. "Not one with the animals either, then?"

Isarai bit down into her lower lip, biting back a smile. "I like them, they don't like me."

"And why is that?"

"Well," her eyes rolled up the skies as she considered. "That bird ensured every morning, even weekends, began straight at dawn, and would endlessly squawk otherwise. I have been chased down a hill by a mob of piglets, kicked and thrown off of the saddles of various steeds both wild and tamed, had a lynx taunt and play with me as if I were a mouse, I once had a kobold _throw_ it's candle at me in the hopes I would go away… among many more."

"You should write a book."

"Perhaps, but first, we save the world, right?"

"Right," Valein smiled, and Isarai felt herself return it.

"I also need to find a way to thank Anirion…"

"Who?" Isarai gave the Illidari a stare, perking her brow yet again. Valein took a moment. "Oooh. Sunstrike. Gotch'ya. We ain't on a first name basis yet."

"Ruthios suggested scouting the nearby area, perhaps for something that would make a breakfast of dried jerky and bread more tolerable."

"It's not a bad idea," Valein reached up to scratch his cheek once more, audibly humming as he considered. "Ain't like you're gonna find any flower shops round 'ere, either, and that's if he even likes flowers…"

"I can't imagine so, and besides, it's a thank you, not a woo."

"Oh, like you wouldn't consider it." Valein said, his tone teasing.

Isarai blanched, her response halted as she found herself speechless. She hadn't even considered the possibility, and in reflection, felt she didn't want to. "Not only is that highly inappropriate but it is not what I am here to do."

"What? Not even with Sunborne?" Valein prodded, his voice raising with his sing-song.

"Most definitely not," She hissed, her teeth gritted.

Valein shot his hands up. "Alright, alright. For one, I am glad you're not drooling over every warrior, envisioning him as your knight in shining armour. Those types of women get themselves killed in seconds flat."

"You'd be surprised at the number of men doing the same…" Isarai couldn't help but eye him in an accusing manner.

"That was mean," He pouted, which only caused Isarai to sigh and roll her eyes. He grinned in response, a chuckle lodged deep in his throat. "I can see why Ruthios has taken to you."

Isarai shrugged, before her curiosity spiked. "How do you know him?"

Valein's grin sobered, and the Illidari shifted on his feet as he began to display signs of nervousness. "We.. go way back. We fought."

"Together?" Isarai's brows twitched inwards, but Valein simply shook his head. "I see. That only makes me all the more curious as to why you're so lenient in working together."

"I guess I wanted to atone in some way or the other," Valein explained with an usual amount of serious resonance to his voice. "Y'know, earn his forgiveness. I'm aware the path I have taken since our first meeting will do nothing to better our situation, but it is for a good cause. I'd like to hope the two of us working together with a common goal would aid that."

Isarai's head lowered into a vague nod. "It makes sense. I can only wish you good luck. After all, he is a stubborn man."

"Like old times," he chuckled, nostalgia softening his fel-crackled features as he calmly shook his head. "You do not mistrust me then? Even upon knowing in a previous lifetime, I may have been your father's demise?" He looked her way, his ears perked to the sky. A clear display his peaking interest.

Isarai's slim, leather clad shoulders heaved into a shrug, a cocky grin forming with her words. "He'd have found a way out of it."

"And so he did," Valein said with an agreeable nod. He looked around for a moment with his unworldly vision. The sun had since began to show signs of rising, as the lavender sky took on a pinkish hue from the far off distance. "I'd wager Ala'nor and Karona have slept long enough. Wait here, we will acquire ourselves an egg."

"An egg?" Isarai blinked in surprise, peering over her shoulder in the direction the Illidari had began to walk.

"An egg!" He loudly whispered, his brows raising as if he were to be widening his eyes. "To spice up you-know-who's breakfast." Isarai blinked once, and had began to part her lips as another question came to mind, but the Illidari had long since scampered off with an impressive speed.

Isarai turned back to the chasm, watching the growing rays of sun bounce from the soft tousle of the tree branches. They seemed to dance in the wind, and the early hours of morning had not yet carried the same melodic albeit haunting whispers from the previous day. It was not until her stomach turned that Isarai realised that only was she mesmerised in these foreign lands, but she was also nervous. Of course, she and Ruthios had frequently travelled, trained and prepared for the worst, but she had never participated in global warfare before, and Isarai found it hard to believe that a land as beautiful as Azsuna was in the midst of it.

 _Expect the unexpected,_ was a thought that came to Isarai's mind, and a quote she had heard all too frequently. Isarai expelled a calming breath, trying to keep her thoughts of skepticism to the back of her mind as she focused ahead. The longer she looked, the more paranoid she felt. Her body began to tense, and she wondered how Anirion could stand there for hours, with nothing but the darkness, his own thoughts, and the knowing of _something_ being out there.

Fortunately, Valein made a quick return, with a grumpy looking Karona and a yawning Chyri. Isarai shot them both an apologetic smile, her elvish ears beginning to dip. "Valein, this can wait…"

Chyri took stance besides Isarai, beginning to stretch as she returned Isarai's smile with one of her own. "Don't be silly. I think it's a lovely idea, and will demonstrate to the others that we are a team." She went on to brush her messy, bedhead chestnut hair out of her face, ruffling it up in a more fashionable manner.

"Thank you," Isarai murmured. She dared not to glimpse Karona too much, as Valein began to guide the two towards the chasm and out of the camp.

"Try to find me one of them eggs, eh?" The Orcess grunted in a low voice as they departed. Valein flashed her a backwards thumbs up, brushing aside the ferns and plants for Isarai as the duo clambered out, beyond that of the clearing and into the wilderness of Azsuna.

* * *

Dawn had risen, and the chirping birds in Anirion's ears signalled that. But the birds had not been the ones to wake him, as his tent had continuously ruffled and shook through his slumber. He tried to assure himself it was just the wind, until it came clear it was no wind, but perhaps a woodland creature deciding to test their luck by trying to invade the makeshift tent in source of food. His best guess was a squirrel. Tiredly, he swat his hand towards the shaking. "Fuck off," he drawled, and as expected, it stopped. He forced a petulant sigh out of his nose, as even without moving he could feel the ever lingering ache of his eyes, limbs, and just about everything else. He felt a pinch of regret at having of been stubborn enough to prevail through as many hours in the night as he had during watch duty, while the rest of him encouraged it was for the best.

He forced himself to roll over, and noticed that his orcish bunkmate, Karona, had long since vanished, and her bed had since been packed up. However, the roguish youthling lay furthest away, and seemed quite content in his slumber, as if the shaking had done little to disturb him.

Anirion couldn't help but feel a little annoyed that he had suffered alone, particularly when the very same youth had staggered into the tent an hour after he had, and woken him up with his shambling and gossiping. He, for one, cared very little in the personal affairs among the mob of misfits he found himself within.

Reluctantly, Anirion forced himself up onto his elbows, using one of his palms to rub at his face. His sheets slipped from his form, bare of all except for his breeches. He neglected to seek his clothes, instead grappling his satchel for one of his many flasks of water, and a cloth, before making his way out of the tent. Just as his body straightened up, his eyes spotted a shape from the corners of his eyes, a head of blonde hair and dark leathers coating her body.

Out of instinct, Anirion hissed and tensed with fright, while the blue-eyed female threw herself to the side, her eyes wide with shock. "Do _not_ do that." He growled.

Isarai blinked, while her face softened, becoming apologetic. "Oh! Uh, sorry. I just wanted to see if you were awake."

"And what do you see?" His tone was sharp, but void of any true emotion.

"Uh.. you're awake?" The blonde furrowed her brows.

"Well done." He huffed, and began to walk towards the centre of the camp. The scent of burnt wood lingered in the air, but he didn't mind. It was a smell he had grown accustomed to. Anirion lowered himself down upon one of the larger rocks surrounding the sizzled out fire. He began to soak the cloth, pressing it to his waterflask as he simultaneously tipped it, however, he grew more distracted as he felt eyes lingering upon his bare back. He glowered over his shoulder at the Quel'dorei female, who just as he expected, had been staring at him. "Do you not have anything better to do?"

Isarai bit into her plump lower lip, an expression that almost made Anirion feel just a twinge for speaking to her in the manner he did. He grit his teeth, holding her perplexed stare with his irritable one. She dipped her eyes down to the plate in her hands, solemnly beginning to approach the male yet again. She averted his jade green eyes as she set the plate down, and curiously, Anirion spotted that she had prepared a breakfast of sorts, beyond that of what he expected.

Where he expected dried bread and water, he saw two singular slices of loaf, stacked together, and between them a tantalising, gooey puddle of yellow and white. Luckily, Anirion had enough education to decipher that it was an egg, but he had never seen one of this size before. "What is it?"

"An egg," Isarai tried to ignore the hard stare that followed from Anirion, keeping her gaze to the plate as she continued, providing an explanation that was less stupid in her behalf. "I'm not sure on what creature, but it was in a tree, it's clean of fel and I had Myhlea double-check for any abnormalities. It's edible, I can assure you that much."

Anirion stared up at her, monitoring her expression. His eyes had since begun to narrow, and he found himself questioning whether or not he could trust her…

Even if the food _did_ look good.

Stubbornly, the male returned to his duty of soaking his cloth, trying to ignore the fact that the female had since moved from his right and to his left, seeking to perch herself upon the rock next to his. He peered out of the corners of his eyes, and for a split second he couldn't help but admire her curvaceous form, his eyes briefly scouting the deep arch of her hourglass figure, bound and accentuated by her leathers. He found himself internally berating himself for, even if for a split second, finding the enemy attractive. He hastily hid his face as he rubbed his damp cloth to it, wiping away the residue of sleep from his eyes and any potential dirt from his face. He moved onto his neck, shoulders, and lastly his underarms. Not that it had done much justice, but at least Anirion felt moderately fresher.

He noticed how Isarai remained at his side, and when his jade eyes flickered to her azure ones, hers had hastily moved to look elsewhere. For a moment, he wondered if she had been watching him, or if she had simply been caught in her own thoughts. The impression he had of her was a weigh in of a smartass, or an airhead. It was not often those two traits were combined, and usually, Anirion prided himself at being a good judge of character.

A moment of silent awkwardness passed between the two of them as Anirion felt himself staring, while she avoided him. She continued to gnaw on that lower lip of hers, causing Anirion to stir and furrow his brows. "You're going to make yourself bleed if you keep that up."

Isarai blinked, though seemed to visibly relax as her tense shoulders eased. She released the bite of her lip, and angled her body more towards him. Her eyes had yet to lift back up to meet his, an issue Anirion had grown used to, particularly during his instruction and introductions to Blood Knight initiates.

"I wanted to say thank you," Isarai began.

"For?"

"Saving me."

Anirion's brows knitted even closer together, only to smooth out upon realisation of the naga incident. He found himself quietened at her attempts of a thank you, his eyes scouting the food yet again, which only grew all the more tempting as the Blood Knight came to the fact that he was, indeed, quite hungry, and not at all in the mood for bread harder than stone. "Just… be more vigilant next time. It could have killed us both."

The blue-eyed wonder nodded, and offered the fair-haired paladin a soft, warm smile. _She is quite pretty…_ the thought snuck up on Anirion, and it made his features harden. He dismissed the same thought, and it was his turn to face away from her.

"Roll call in ten minutes! If you haven't packed or eaten, I suggest you do so now." Valein's voice rang out over the camp, causing a select few groans and the jostling of a tent or two.

Isarai glimpsed Anirion once more, but he continued to ignore her. She took the hint and stood, taking care to not trip over the rocks as she left Anirion be, moving to her tent in order to pack up her things.

Anirion resisted the urge to watch the natural sway of her hips as she left, something he had struggled with during their second meet, and their first spar. In truth, while she may have bested him, he bested himself by growing distracted. Hardened and wartorn, otherwise, he was still a man. He instead focused on the other delicacy; his breakfast.

He gave it a brief inspection before tucking in, and the savoury, salt-tinged goodness was enough to make him second guess his regrets on saving the elf with blue eyes.


	8. Chapter 8: Babysat in Battle

_I'm fucking idiot! At which point in the apology was there a plan to fuckin' stare and creep him the fel out?_ Isarai internally chastised herself as she worked on taking apart the tent single handedly. She had urged Myhlea to go eat, while Ruthios knelt to the side and packed up their things. _So much for reassuring him that I didn't lace his food…_

Her thoughts drifted, away from the mortifying experience and to the true fault at hand: Anirion's body. Why the male had to choose the singular moment Isarai wanted him alone to be half-naked was beyond her, to wash or otherwise. Isarai had only just expelled Avir from her mind, and now the only thing that played upon it was the sight of Anirion's chiseled body. Bare in form, and sculpted through years of training and wearing armour enough to be the epitome of a warrior's physique. Furthermore, Isarai could not understand the sudden urges in her body, nor the desirable thoughts and prompt observation of the opposite sex. Her mind very briefly trickled back to the dream and the three hazy figures lavishing her, a thought she expelled not a second later as she felt the heat redden her cheeks.

Isarai stifled a sigh, stripping the fabric from the tent, a little more forcefully than necessary. The fabric whipped through the air, and caused the two sticks that had held the tent up to tumble with a clatter. He watched the spectacle with an empty expression, glancing Isarai with a stern glower of his remaining eye.

"You alright there, kiddo?" His tone was low, disguising his affection. Isarai was not insulted by this, and nor was he ashamed of her, for both of them had a reputation to uphold, to be strong, and unthreatened, even in regards to the risk of the other.

Isarai forced a smile. "Bullshit," the elder human scoffed. "What is it? Has that Sunborne been bothering you? What happe-"

"No," Isarai quipped, and Ruthios knew he had touched sensitive ground. However, Isarai's eyes pierced his with an almost begging look. "Nothing happened, and it isn't that.". He hid the fact that his blood boiled, and his mind raced with a variety of scenarios of what the little shit had done to upset his only living family. He then went on to imagine strangling him, which sated the anger. Just a tad.

Ruthios took a deep breath in. "Alright…" he sighed a moment later as he stood up. He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and kicked the sticks aside, approaching Isarai as she began to fold the fabric. He took over, pretending for Isarai's own sake not to notice the slight tremble of her hands. "Then what is it?"

"I don't think my thank you went as expected…" She admitted, her arms seeking to fold themselves over her chest. She reeled one hand up and began to nibble at one of her nails. Ruthios perked his brow, signalling he would need more entail than that, as his head drifted in the direction of Anirion, who had since dressed back into his meticulous armour, branding the infamous Blood Knight tabard. He briefly watched as the elven male knelt, glowering down at a splayed map upon the ground..

"And why is that?"

"He thought I was trying to poison him…" Isarai frowned as Ruthios began to grin. Her eyes became narrow. " _It's not funny!"_ She hissed.

"It is, and it isn't," He explained, humour residing within him as his grin didn't entirely sober. He clapped his hand to her shoulder. "It's likely he's simply not desensitized to gratitude, and with history and skewed politics, it is only natural for him to be distrustworthy. Especially if he is the type of elf to view you as-"

"I know," Isarai gripped the bridge of her nose. "I know, it's just _frustrating._ For one step forward, I take two back. The only thing I'm excelling at as of the moment is not proving I am just as capable, and that I am incompetent, or a coward, or even a traitor…"

"Well, you're not any of those things."

"No, you're right. I'm just your plain old idiot."

"Only when the occasion warrants it," Ruthios smirked, withdrawing his hand to roll the fabric up. Isarai knowingly turned, allowing him to slot the folded up tent back to an interior slip within her satchel, causing him to miss the sullen roll of her eyes. "What do I always tell you?"

"You have that many one-liners that they're difficult to keep track of…" She grumbled. Ruthios gave her satchel a firm yank, pulling Isarai with it. "Ow!" She yelped, straightening up and shooting him a glare from over her shoulder.

"Stand your ground," He reminded. She resisted another eye-roll, simply staring up at him with a dumbfounded expression.

"Is that it?"

"That's it." He nodded, seemingly in a good mood as he sported another grin.

"You couldn't think of _anything_ remotely better?"

"No, and you wouldn't of listened if I had." Isarai found herself unable to retort, dropping her gaze to the ground for any missing belongings.  
"Go and eat before your blood pressure spirals out of control, gramps." She quipped, lightly nudging the sticks aside with a foot. Ruthios' smirk remained, only to fade as he approached the camp centre, knowing Isarai's advice had some form logic in it, even if it had nothing to do with his blood pressure.

Isarai took pleasure in the opportunity to briefly sulk to herself. She knew it was going to be a long day, and it would be a while before she could find herself a rock to crawl under. Yet again, she couldn't understand her hasty admirations, or why they were having such an effect on her. She briefly wondered if the end of the world was only heightening the brutal truth that she had yet to experience love or a male willingly, desperate to seek reason.

She accepted it with a grit of her teeth, and to sate the knots in her stomach. " _Goddamn Legion…"_

* * *

The campmates gathered in a semi-circle, the clearing now sparse of any sign of living, except that of the extinguished fire. Isarai's eyes wondered the group, measuring all except for Synora and Avir, evading any hope for the redness brewing in her cheeks. Ruthios and Myhlea stood either side of her, which by now Isarai had grown accustomed to and seemed only all the more natural. Valein clapped his hands once. "Excellent. I take it we are all well-rested and ready to face the day ahead?" He looked around.

"What is our mission?" Chyri couldn't help but ask. "I feel you have kept us in the dark long enough, Commander."

Valein grinned. " _Commander,"_ he repeated in an amused, childish tone, followed by that of a giggle. "I like it. But yes! The plans for today are quite mundane, but hold purpose." The Demon hunter rolled out a map, setting it upon the grounds. Kailen and Chyri individually placed their feet down so the parchment would not roll back. He moved his fingers along the map, trickling with a surprising amount of accuracy against the paper he could not see. "We are going to be relocating to the north west, to the lands of Val'Sharah. On our journey, we are to collect a plant called Aethril. It holds magical properties, which can be used and distilled into healing potions, battle elixirs, and to tide over the withdrawal effects of those likely to become one of the Withered."

"The Withered?" Myhlea blinked, fluttering her navy lashes with confusion.

"They're the Highborne version of Wretched, only in reverse," Valein explained. "Where Wretched is the result of the abuse of magic, withered is a severe form of withdrawal. They are Nightborne elves who have been outcasted, and as such, were not exposed to the Nightwell. After some time, they have fallen victim to a severe addiction to it's magic, and as such have undergone physical disfigurement and regression. Those who have not yet become one of the Withered are known as the Nightfallen. We are to supply them with aethril, which is to be transported and smuggled throughout the lands, to those in hiding from the Legion and the allied nation of Suramar. Their Queen seems to like pulling dick moves, and is intent on starving those of the rebellion out."

"Why is there always some shit breaking out over a magic spewing well with these elves?" Twinkles whined, nudging Karona's calf with her elbow. "Am I right, sister?"

Karona spat upon the ground near the gnome, causing her to blink.

"... Alright…" Twinkles sang, looking back over at Valein.

"I have to warn you, we may find ourselves crossing paths with those who have fallen to this state," Valein's tone heeded his warning gravely. "And much like the Wretched, they are prone to violent frenzies, and will seek magic from any living thing or embodiment that possesses even a slither. Try to remember, and I say this with the utmost respect, that they are no longer people. They are lost to their addiction, merely shells of their former glory. Try to remember that, because otherwise, you will find yourself swarmed, sapped and torn apart. They seem to have an uncanny ability to operate in packs, and if you are found by one, there will be another, and another to that, and so on, so forth."

Isarai's ears lowered, turning away to spot Myhlea's face, pained with a longing look of guilt, as if she had impossibly contributed to the Withered's fate. "We can help the others," Isarai reminded her in a whisper. Myhlea sullenly nodded.

"That we will," The Priestess spoke out. "My people may hold distaste for the Highborne, and while meddling with magics had, and has certainly proved, to have dangerous repercussions, I do not wish this fate on anyone."

"Ditto," Chyri nodded in agreement, her expression unnaturally distant, and somewhat cold. "I'm sure many of the Sin'dorei can sympathise that there is no greater torment."

The group mused in a momentary silence, until Valein spoke up. "Then it's settled," he gestured for Kailen and Chyri to release the map, rolling it up as soon as it began to spring out of place. "Not that it was ever up for debate…"

* * *

"How much longer is this dreaded walk?" Synora complained from the back of the group. Karona's jaw tightened, as she had been stuck at the caster's side for the best part of the four hour journey, which came with her traits to bicker, pester and complain, only heightening as the alluring warlock was yet again ignored, causing her to growl.

"As long as it takes for us to collect a sufficient amount of aethril. I don't understand how we haven't found any yet…" Valein's voice grew sharp, indicating his frustration.

"Maybe it's further up the terrains," Avir suggested.

"Grasslands do tend to flourish…" Myhlea agreed.

"Straying off of the path is prohibited," The Illidari instructed.

Synora scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Your superiors are not here, and you are far too tame. If the point of this mission is to acquire herbs, then surely they are aware this cannot be done on a path?"

"She has a point," Isarai couldn't help but be surprised as Ruthios, of all people, backed up the Warlock.

Valein paused in his stride, causing the entire group to come to a halt. He peered over his shoulder. "We're not _all_ suicidal, and I'm not big on sacrificing a group of anti-demons. It doesn't tend to go down well if you all ain't got horns sprouting outta your heads." He began to move again before anyone, even Synora, could retort. However, his feet began to stray from the path and onto the lush grass. The rest of the group followed and Isarai complied, for she was just as entranced as she had been during their arrival to Azsuna. Her eyes were soon met by a looming silhouette, spotted with glittering lilac orbs. It wasn't until the group closed in that they truly saw the ruins in its glory, speckled with violet shrubbery. An ancient pathway glistened like wet cobbles, where the stones forged into the shape and colouration of crystals, giving way to jewelled stream. Isarai felt something within her tighten, and she began to experience a dim pull ignite through her veins the longer she stared at the crystal river.

"Potent," Synora wantonly sang.

"Irrevocably," Chyri added, her voice strained.

"Focus," Anirion chastised with an expel of air through his nose. His feet were sternly rooted to the spot, and a faint look of concern rested in his eyes as he observed the river and his comrades. A look Ruthios shared as he measured Isarai.

"I'm fine," the little elf spoke up with a warm smile, her eyes bright with something that the human couldn't determine, but he hoped it was not greed. "It's beautiful."

"And catastrophic with that dosage. Look…" Valein murmured, outstretching a long talon to point just slightly above the terrain, where a smaller, less decorative ruin stood, and a small gathering of shrivelled creatures loitered. What Isarai saw knocked her sick, as out of instinct a hand clamped to her mouth and her throat closed up. Shrivelled, they were, as they stood tall, but huddled, almost akin to that of a hunchback, and some cowered lower than others. Their physique was shrunken and skeletal-like, and even from afar Isarai could spot the tremors raking their bodies as they aimlessly dawdled.

"Well, at least the term 'withered' would not go amiss…" Synora's hum broke the silence, but in turn caused Chyri to turn to the blonde with an unnatural look of malice.

"Don't be so insensitive!" The huntress snarled.

Synora barely even blinked as one hand trailed to dust her robes. The look in her eyes became one of boredom, and it was then that her stare couldn't help but trickle back to the crystal aglow ruins.

"The resemblance is uncanny," Myhlea, too, chastised the noblewoman. Synora glowered her way, her lips parting.

"Hardly a fault of my own when they cannot handle their substances, magic or otherwise."

"Were you even listening?" Valein interjected, his brows furrowing as he directed his anger towards her. "Or are those ley crystals causing your tiny, fel-absorbed brain to go _lala_ already?" Synora grit her teeth as she remained quiet, and the Illidari pointed to the small gathering of withered once more. "This is _not_ the result of abusing magic, but having it stripped of them. Quite frankly, I'm disappointed. Of all people, I would have assumed you, Synora, to be one of the more compassionate faces among us. You know their struggles all too well, however rather than having something taken from you, your downfall was nothing but your own greed."

"You dare to defile me?" The warlock hissed back, her fists beginning to clench. Isarai's ears couldn't help but lower. Chyri, Anirion and Ruthios tensed, ready to shift into battle-mode as they all felt a curse upon the elf witch's lips.

"I have, numerous times." The Illidari reminded her with a curt tone. "And don't you forget your roots, Dawngrave."

"If I may object, we are beginning to draw attention to ourselves…" Myhlea whispered, and the group turned to face the husk of an elf, staggering upon the low hillside to catch a glimpse of the group. It's blank eyes were the colour of dusk, and it didn't seem entirely sure of where to look as it's head twitched to and from. It's curled hands seemed to scratch at itself rather than the grass, appearing lost and dazed.

"Poor thing…" Chyri whispered, instinctively beginning to lower her bow.

"Don't move," Valein instructed. "This one doesn't appear to have become feral just yet. Friend, your name?" The Illidari made an attempt at directing the withering elf, but was not met with a response.

"Perhaps they are feeding off of the ley crystals..." Myhlea added lowly.

"They seem to be," Kailen agreed, then tilted his head as he directed his gaze to the others. The withered followed this movement with a twitch of it's head. "Remarkable… they seem to be operating in ways akin to that of wolf packs."

"Like I said," Valein reminded the group, his attention solely upon the withered at the hillside, who trembled and took a deep breathe. It murmured something incoherent to all gathered. "What do you seek?"

The creature continued to ogle them. "I think he's just havin' a nosy," Twinkles whispered, but kept herself a distance.

"Look," Karona grunted, as the rest of the 'pack' turned towards the group, causing those who were not tense before to be so now.

" _Nobody_ move." Valein gravely hissed.

"We should help them…" Chyri said through gritted teeth.

"And how do you plan to do that? Self-sacrifice? Be my guest." Synora huffed.

"Ssh!" Twinkles spat at the warlock, but it was too late. Five near-withered had gathered, half-circling the group. Two of which had since began to dangerously twitch and foam at the mouth, half-pants half-mewls escaping their thinned lips. Synora began to raise her hand, and just as she began to channel, the two withereds lunged. The first was incinerated with ease, but the second grappled for the jewel around Synora's neck, snapping the chain from her neck before scuttling away before he, too, could meet the same fiery fate.

"Why, you little-"

"Leave him!" Chyri thundered, planting herself dead on in Synora's path, her arm preventing the warlock from passing. The group watched curiously as the creature ran further into the ruins, and had since began to chew on the necklace. The other three circled him, and it was not long before a fight broke out amongst their ranks, all fighting for the trinket.

"That was a gift," Synora sniffed with distaste.

"Like you have a shortage of them," Isarai muttered, her ears lowering as feelings of guilt trickled in at the spectacle. After a moment of one of the withered smashing the necklace against a rock, the three once again broke into a fight to attain the remnants, only to hastily rub and lap the dust and shards against their skin. The creatures considered themselves done with the adventurers, appearing to be in a state of bliss as they feverishly rubbed themselves.

"Crazy creatures," Twinkles tutted and shook her head. "How come they didn't sap the elves?"

"Perhaps they understand more than you think, and that they, too, even when in the midst of insanity, have morals," The Huntress was swift to defend them.

"Though not far from the truth, incredibly doubtful," Valein solemnly disagreed. "My research has shown me that to go for something living is usually a last resort, but I would wager this is to do moreso with the types of magic they seek. A living essence would not hold anywhere near as ripe energies when in comparison to that of the Nightwell, arcwine, and other gems and crystals of this land. My best bet is that Synora's fel energy skewed their palette, while the pure arcane within her necklace enticed them, and was something to tide them over."

"Like a quick-fix?" Isarai mused with a pluck of a brow.

"Exactly." Valein nodded, then shrugged as he continued. "However, I could be wrong. My research is minimal."

"Can we just start looking for those blasted flowers?" Synora's irritable voice rang yet again. Valein nodded, and gestured for the group to move further, taking advantage of the withered's temporary distraction.

"Do you think we could return to them after gathering? I'd say these creatures are in as dire need as others…" The Huntress pondered as she waited on Valein's answer, gnawing at the inside of her cheek.

"If we have time," Valein said with an indicator of promise in his tone.

It was not long before the lush grasslands gave way to a speckling of trees and fields, and at their roots, an assortment of flourishes and shrubs. Avir was the first to get excited as he knelt besides one, his face contorting into an expression that vaguely resembled disgust, despite his eyes remaining bright. He gestured to the orange flower.

"Oh, man. That _reeks._ Smell." Avir grinned, trying to playfully force Twinkles' head into the flower.

"Eugh!" The gnome squealed, batting at the elf with her gun. "Ger'off me, you ninny! That's gross!-.. But.. not.. At the same time."

"Foxflower," Avir said, though the explanation seemed unecessary in itself as Isarai could sight of the flower, resembling that of a fox's tail. "I've heard it makes a pretty good flux. You mind if I take a moment?" He looked up at Valein with hopeful eyes.

"Sure," The Illidari shrugged with disinterested.

"Wait," Isarai squeaked with excitement as something sparkly took her eyes to the left, shrouded beneath an upturned root of a nearby tree. The little elf dropped to her knees to try and inspect the earthly jewel, with Myhlea close behind with the same level of appreciation and curiosity. "What is _that?_ " Isarai's voice rang a little louder, attracting the attention of her comrades.

"I'm missing out," Valein couldn't help but sigh-whine, folding his arms. His nose twitched as he sniffed and looked in the direction of the flower. "Smells and… looks… sorta magical though, even from here."

"Looks like an ordinary, poxy flower to me," Karona grunted.

Valein looked in the Orc's direction with a perplexed expression. "A woman who dislikes flowers. If I could blink, I would." the Orcess rolled her eyes, folding her arms as she instead turned to keep a look-out. "You single?" The Illidari continued, tensing as if to prepare for a hit. Karona did little to give him the satisfaction.

"It's beautiful…" Isarai murmured as she sat back on her heels, letting the others gander as she brushed and held the shrubbery aside. Within the little crevice of leaves and roots, an aethril. Naturally, beautiful as most, and it urged the same urging ache in Isarai's being as the ley crystals had, only dimmer. The aethril petals were almost translucent, with speckles of cherry and burgundy flicking from the anther's, and the leaves were a deep magenta.

"Get aethril hunting, everyone," Valein instructed.

Ruthios' gestured for Isarai to lead. The little elf accepted the offer with hesitancy, but couldn't help but be drawn to the flower, with an even greater amount of confidence as Myhlea joined them. Isarai faintly remembered how she would escape into the forests of Elwynn to try and create the best flower crown she could, recalling how she often pickpocketed roses and lilly's from passerby flower merchants. It was not long before several of the group located the flower. Potent and ripe with magic for it's size, Isarai took care and followed Myhlea's lead when plucking the flower until able to do so independently, going on to find another further into the trees.. She tried to ignore Ruthios' looming albeit protective shadow, focusing on not hindering the flowers' potency.

"Curious," Myhlea murmured with fondness. "The petals on these flowers are gorgeous. It actually reminds me of my late grandmother's wedding dress."

"Maybe they're geographical," Ruthios' replied, keeping close watch on the two women. "I'm not fully aware of your people's history, but I assume the architecture and natural lands of the area that aren't fel-tainted have remained almost equal to that of ten millennias ago."

"Perhaps," The Priestess smiled warmly. "Survivors may have very likely taken inspiration, and my family are favourable of tradition. Though, I can't say I've had much opportunity to dwell."

"You should, when the war is over. It's always good to know your people," Ruthios encouraged, then shot Isarai a look. His grin was teasing. "Well, most of the time." Isarai responded with a snort, which ensured Myhlea that she could relax and not fight back the smile curling her lips.

"Do you not ever get curious of your roots, Isarai?" The Priestess asked, her eyes bright with curiosity as she helped the little elf with the last of bundle within their vicinity.

Isarai shrugged. "Not really. Ruthios' told me everything I really needed to know, and I guess I just prefer focusing on the present. From what he told me, they seemed nice, so. That's enough for me."

"For a Sin'dorei you're easy to sate," Myhlea amended with a grin of her own.

"And for a Priestess, you're pretty racist." Isarai chimed. Myhlea's owlish eyes bat ajar, then open again. "I'm kidding."

"Oh," Myhlea sighed with relief, reaching up to swat a fallen tendril of navy hair from her face. "Thank Elune, that the last impression I want to make…"

Isarai shrugged. "I'm used to the curiosity. Just gotta have fun with it."

"At my expense?" Myhlea inquired, smirking as Isarai nodded with an _a-yup_. " _That_ is notably more Sin'doreish."

This time it was Ruthios' turn to snort. Isarai upturned her nose and angled her chin. "Oh, my lady," Myhlea mockingly bowed her head. Isarai had to grit her teeth to keep from laughing, as the trio began to side-eye Synora's distant form, who blatantly refused to kneel in the dirt in any circumstance.

"You guys seem to be having fun," Valein added as he approached. "You finishing up?"

"We are," Myhlea nodded and began to get to her feet, only for Ruthios to offer her his hand. The Priestess smiled, accepting as she let the Paladin help her up. Isarai got to her own feet in the meantime, securing the aethril in the pouch before nudging it into Valein's hand. The Illidari knew exactly where to grab, giving the trio a gracious nod.

"Good job," He amended. "Let's gather up. It won't be long before sun down, and we aren't anywhere close to Val'sharah yet."

"What's that?" Kailen squinted.

"What's what?" Valein asked.

"I don't hear nothin'," Twinkles loudly whispered.

"Shush!" The night elf growled, his long ears twitching to the skies. The rest of the elves did the same to try and hear what he did, only for the Sentinel's eyes to widen and his feet to propel him from the treeline and into the grasslands.

"Duskflight!" Valein growled, lunging after the night elf. Isarai's breath hitched as she felt Ruthios yank her along, as the group scurried after their comrades.

"This is fucking stupid!" Karona spat as they yelled.  
"Have faith," Myhlea said with ease, her long legs keeping her at pace with the group with an ease possessible only by Kal'dorei, but Isarai herself couldn't help but doubt Kailen, having not of heard anything herself.

However, Kailen's revolution proved right as the group returned to their earlier post. The withered had grown in number, with the pack focused on chasing one thing in particular.

No, two things. Two very small things, who were steadily being swarmed by the mass of withered as they struggled to navigate and climb the jagged ley crystals.

"Children!" Myhlea cried in despair. "Brother, we must help them."

"On it," Kailen said, having of already readied his bow and arrow.

"Must we hurt them?" Chyri said in panic, but the group had already began to disperse.

Isarai's brows plucked as a feeling of raw determination and recklessness took hold. She began to move, only to feel Ruthios' hand clasp hers. She hastily looked over her shoulder at him. "Trust me." She begged with haste. The human had little time to argue, letting her go with a swift reluctance. Isarai ran by Synora, and towards a relatively open clearing aside the crystal river.

"Synora! Arcane! Can you shoot it?"

"At you? Most definitely." The Lady nodded with affirmation.

"What?!" Ruthios thundered, regretting his decision to trust her.

"The fel are you doing?!" Valein bellowed as Isarai ran alone to the clearing, only to halt and look in Synora's direction. She gave the warlock a nod, and within seconds, Isarai was to be met with multiple, sudden, icy blue and violet arcane blasts. Isarai had to work to dodge them, though as the vast majority of them hit the ground, she somehow suspected Synora was not actively trying to kill her. The withered took notice, sensing the raw magic but not it's course of direction. Their blank eyes spotted the little elf, who held their gaze with her blue ones. For a moment, they seemed to be under some form of trance as Isarai stared them down, and against every lesson of nature that she had been taught when it came to predators and packs, Isarai _ran._

The withered charged after her, their frenzies heightening and rendering them into a zombie-like state, saliva dripping from their thinned mouths and their gurgles desperate, almost pleading, as they sought the pure arcane from the elf's veins. Isarai charged through the forests, using the trees and roots as cover, or to jump, wind around or alternate direction through, confusing the withered in their hunt.

She ran for what felt like a lifetime, using the landscape as her own personal maze. The withered's screeches heightened, and soon, she noticed the numbers were even greater and were coming from all directions.

What felt like claws slashed at her cheek, knocking her into a tree. Hissing, Isarai ducked beneath the lower branch, crawling through the dim gap as another claw came down to try and grab her, instead slapping into the bark. The withered let out an agitated squeal, digging at the ground next to the root as it's dinner vanished yet again. The confused creature was not able to notice the blue-eyed elf wriggling at the other side, quickly freeing herself as she sought to run back to her comrades. The mass followed, causing Isarai to go into a state of panic. She dared not look back, already struggling to keep up with the various uprooted trees and rocks in her wake that threatened to trip her.

Suddenly, Isarai felt her body pound into something hard and metallic. She was tackled to the ground, and she felt various leaves tug at her hair, and for a moment her body began to thrash through the daze as she suspected a hardened withered had enslaved her in it's secret ditch, away from it's pack as means of survival.

"Stay down," Anirion growled, keeping her pinned beneath him, under the enclave of a large, thick root, shadowing them in leaves. Instantly, Isarai relaxed as the withered completely missed them as they scrambled over the thick root, running in the last direction they had seen the high elf go.

"When are you going to make the stakes even?" Isarai inquired in no more than a whisper.

"When you stop making stupid decisions."

Isarai's brows knitted together. "I didn't _choose_ to fall into the ocean." She took a deep breath as she felt Anirion's weight shift off of her, allowing her to breathe. "Did it work?"

Anirion kept quiet, but judging by the apparent eye-roll of the Blood Elven knight, she was right. She felt a sense of pride brew within her, along with relief, and smugness. "Are they alright?"

"They will be," Anirion assured, struggling to sit back on his heels, for the lowness of the branch forced him to remain ducked. Isarai began to initiate a crawl out of the den, causing the paladin to grip her shoulder and force her back down. "We have to wait."

Isarai frowned, pushing herself up onto her elbows, Anirion's hand remained poised to push her back again. "Why? They're gone, can't we just sneak around back to the group?"

"No," Anirion scowled. "You bided them time with your decapitated chicken tactic, but the others have likely fled. The swarm was double our numbers."

"You could have stayed," Isarai defended.

"No, I couldn't." Anirion snapped back.

Isarai stared at him for a moment, and the Blood Knight had since looked away from her. Sudden realisation struck her.

"You're lost."

"What?" he quipped, pretending to not of heard her.

For his sake, she repeated herself. "You're lost."

"Do you blame me? You were running like a madwoman."

"How else would you run in a forest?"

"I wouldn't run at all, I'd listen to orders."

"And you failed there, too!" Isarai whisper-hissed with exasperation. Anirion grit his teeth, his jaw curt as he fought to remain quiet as well as composed. This little elf really knew how to push his buttons. "I'd like to know why."

"Does it matter?"

"To me? Yes, especially if we're stuck here."

"Your father asked me to." He hurriedly said.

Isarai blinked. "What?"

"Blythe," Anirion emphasised. "He knew Sunborne would be incompetent due to his infatuation, the Orc wouldn't give a damn, Lady Dawngrave would give even _less_ of a damn and likely use it to her own gain and pleasure, and I have yet to place a reason for his lack of approach to Lady Ala'nor, but he wanted _someone_ of the Horde to rely on."

"To what?"

"Protect you."

Isarai felt her stomach tighten. She stared at Anirion with a look of agitation, which ever increased as the blood elf found himself smirking. Not only that, but while she knew she had the tendency to be reckless, but for Ruthios to go out of his way to ensure she was babysat in battle infuriated and upset her. In disbelief, she closed her eyes and shook her head. "You-.. you wouldn't agree to that. You don't even like me."

Anirion didn't have to ask to assume she was referring to not herself as a person, but her kin. He shrugged as she opened her eyes. "It seems you're of some worth. Two pouches of gold, to add." He bit back the guilt as her expression softened, her ears lowering. He looked away before he could take back the lie.

"Well, you can stop." Isarai quipped, feeling herself growing annoyed and sensitive. Ruthios knew her insecurities, yet he had let his own protectiveness and worry overshadow her chance to prove her capability. She hastily folded her arms and childishly turned away from the paladin, exposing her armoured back to him in a chance to acquire what was very little of the personal space she retained in the burrow-like root.

Unphased, Anirion ignored her. "Fine."

The air was thick, and not just because they were shrouded in roots within a confined space. The reality that they were stuck in each other's company for the foreseeable future until rescue struck Isarai, which only acted as the salt that rubbed into the wound from their previous encounters. Instead of being able to have a seclusive rock to crawl under, she would impossibly have to do with sharing the root.


	9. Chapter 9: Escape

**Hey, guys! Sorry for going AWOL. Life got a lil' manic, and I wasn't sure if people were digging this story or not but I'm adamant to keep working on it. So without due, here's the next chapter! Review, favourite, the likes! Thanks for the support 3**

They sat in complete and utter silence. Isarai was unsure how long for, but every second grew to feel a millenia more with each that passed. So much so, that the little elf had began to fidget every so often. Sometimes the bark against her back and rump became impossibly uncomfortable, causing her to shuffle. Other times, she could've sworn a rogue bug had snuck into her hair, resulting in the dire need to scratch at her scalp. Her right foot decided to twitch on occasion, causing the dirt beneath it's sole to scuffle. Her shoulder ached, so a need to roll it and scratch her armour against the trunk heightened. Each little sound, scrape and twitch earned her a glower from the golden-haired paladin to the right, which only added to the discomfort and ensured Isarai would resort to one of her more famous coping mechanisms: nail biting.

Anirion felt his irritability magnify. His brows had since pulled together, making his forehead wrinkle and his lips curl into a scowl that otherwise projected every ounce of annoyance he felt his being capable of expressing. Aware of his staring, he continued, in hopes it would get the blue-eyed elf to stop. Yet, she only continued with the seemingly more menial task of nail-biting. Each tooth that grinded and every nail that chipped soon to topple him over the edge…

"Stop that," He finally hissed, his words spontaneous enough to cause Isarai to flinch, then look at him with a less than impressed expression of her own. For a moment, it was like living back in Stormwind with Ruthios. Only worse.

"I can't help it." She retorted.

He felt his scowl shift into a snarl, beginning to show the faint points of his pearly white teeth. "Sure you can, and I suggest you start now."

Isarai perked a blonde brow, folding her arms as she looked at him with a mixture of coyness and curiosity. "Why, what are you gonna do? Throw me out as withered bait?"

He growled, his fists beginning to clench as he fought to control himself. Why on Azeroth this little elf was able to infuriate him as much as she could, he didn't know. He had an elven lifetime of experience with unruly and otherwise irritable recruits. What was different about her? "Don't tempt me."

"You can't, remember?" Her whisper was a grumpy, seething one. The words rolling off her tongue like venom. "You struck a deal."

"That doesn't mean it can't be broken," He threatened, leaning in close. His hawkish eyes bore into her doe-like ones, causing her to be frozen in place. Her breath became trapped in her throat, and she felt her entire body stiffen. "Again, do not tempt me."

She backed down, though not without a disapproving whip of her hair as she turned away. Disgruntled, Anirion huffed and looked away himself, his enraged glare beginning to simmer as he instead focused on keeping his eyes at the plains ahead, though between the leaves and shrubbery, he could only make out trees and a darkening sky. He knew their chances of being found before the following morning would be slim, especially with two children to protect in a land ridden with demons and magic-craved zombies.

Anirion took a peek at Isarai again, noticing how she had not moved for a good minute or so. He felt the cocky need to congratulate her on such a challenging feat, but he noticed how her body faintly trembled. Her fists were clenched and her arms held tightly over her bust regardless of the subtle shaking, and despite her face being turned away and her platinum hair

creating a thin veil between the them, he could make out that her upper teeth were piercing into her lower lip with a force potentially enough to make them bleed.

A pang of guilt struck him. Another unusual bout of emotion. "I'm sorry." This only caused her to look at him with confusion, spiking his irritability once more. "I'm not saying it again."

"I didn't ask you to…" She defended. Anirion closed his eyes as a sigh escaped his nose, tilting his head back against the bark.

"You're so difficult."

" _I'm_ difficult?!" She squeaked, and Anirion felt a weird sensation…

He felt himself _smirk._

Bewildered, she continued to stare at him in her defensive state. He opened his eyes to meet her narrow ones, only for them to fall to her lips, now plump with colour since her self-initiated assault on them. "I'm not the one sulking."

"I'm _not_ sulking," She blustered, once more snapping her head away. "I'm angry."

"At?" He decided to prod. He knew she needed some form of interaction. Unlike him, he found a vast majority of people, especially youngsters in their first war who were not desensitised to the silence of lying in a mountain of your comrade's corpses, or any silence in general that came with battle, needed to talk about their emotions.

"You," She admitted, her pause brief. "Ruthios. Azeroth. The Legion."

He snorted. "Name me one person who isn't angry at the Legion."

"The demons within it."

He rolled his eyes. "I can't imagine their perks being too great, aside from the euphoria of fel, sex and forbidden arts."

Isarai showed no appreciation for his humour as of the minute, which Anirion found to irk him considerably more than it should. His tone did not soften, but he felt himself tilting his head with a goading curiosity, rather than a demanding one. "Is there someone you know who has swayed to their temptations?"

"Would it matter if I did? You can't do much, other than put a Light bolt in their head." She hesitated as she eyed him over. "You're not a good talker, so there's no way you can hold a holy seminar."

"I'm a good listener," He agreed with another shrug.

"Can't think of anything worse than group therapy, huh?" Isarai inquired with a hum. She knew by the disgruntled contort of his expression that she was correct. A small smile crept on her lips.

"Is there someone?" He prodded once more, only to be met with a soft shake of her head, and a feeling in his chest which he struggled to decipher as relief or confusion. "Hm. Good."

"Is it? I thought you'd be disappointed." Isarai's brows rose as she spoke, her tone quipping with a subtle bout of snark.

"At?"

"The lost chance to smite a lowly, fel-seeking degenerate."

Anirion shrugged. "There are other methods. You'll also have to be more descriptive. I'd be seeking a kingdom's worth of chances, else." His eyes hintingly narrowed, darkening their jade hue. Isarai couldn't help but to stare and admire the flecks of gold upon emerald.

"What?" Her gawking caused him to stir, without adjusting his returning stare.

"Your eyes have a little gold in them."

He arched a brow. "That would be the Light."

"You're not casting."

He shrugged. Had it not been for their interaction, Isarai would have assumed that to be his primary source of communication.

"It's pretty." She reassured, causing the blood elf to scoff.

" _Pretty?"_

Isarai smiled, exposing the tips of her teeth. "Boys can be pretty. Especially their eyes."

"I am no boy." His tone aired on the side of defence.

"Man, decrepit, ancient-being. Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "Your hair is golden, as well. Guess that makes your hair pretty, too."

"Are you intentionally trying to strip me of my masculinity?"

"No." Her smile turned sickly sweet, and her voice lowered into a whisper. "Why, is it working?"

His response was swift, though Isarai suspected he was toying with her for her own sanity. "No."

She shrugged, deciding to see how far she could push, as she gave him a single eyeing over. "Now you mention it, that sword has gotta be compensating for something…"

Anirion's nose twitched. "You're repulsive."

"Now that's just mean…" she feigned a pout, which proved to be useless as the Knight resumed his deadpan stare. She turned away and glimpsed the shrubbery and lands beyond, the temptation to peak causing her body to instinctively lean forward.

"Don't." Anirion spat, clamping a heavy hand to her shoulder. She couldn't help but brush him off with the slightest roll of her limb.

"You do realise I specialise in being subtle, right?" She hissed.

"Could've fooled me," Isarai ignored him and rolled her eyes. "Subtlety aside, they hunt via the essence of magic, and I'm not the one who's arcanic blood remains untainted." The Knight's nose wrinkled, his expression comparable to that of regret.

"You think I haven't been trained to deal with magic trackers?"

He stared the little elf down. "I think you should listen to the soldier with decades of expertise."

"In hiding? Remind me never to ask to see your battle-stance. You'd practically disappear." Isarai snorted. Anirion's stare grew graver, and the blond felt the hairs on her neck prickle with the slightest of unease. "We can't stay here forever…"

"We won't," He said with certainty. "If they do not arrive by dawn, we _will_ make a move. Until then, replace your imbecility with a touch of patience."

"You're one to talk, Mr. Crabbypants."

Anirion blinked. "Crabbypants? Is that all you could come up with?"

She shrugged. "It works."

"It really doesn't, although I'm not surprised by your lack of vocabulary. You were raised by that human, no?"

"I was, and he tried his damn hardest to ensure I wasn't speaking complete crap ninety-percent of the time. Which, by the way, does not make you eloquent in the slightest. Just makes you look like some sorta no-life who's biggest kick of the day is solving the riddles on the back of a Kaja'Cola cans."

"You have far too much time on your hands, Isarai," He begrudgingly lectured, and used his hand to clamp her shoulder once more, setting her back a little more forcibly this time. "Patience." He reminded.

Isarai sighed, cupping her arms around her knees as she leaned back into the bark, scrunching her eyes shut.

"It could be worse," She heard the Knight grumble, offering only the faintest of hums in response. Anirion couldn't help but feel disgruntled that his methods of distraction had been so short-lived. He gave up, and turned his attention to the lands beyond, noticing how the sky had since began to darken. He estimated it to be drawing towards the late afternoon to early evening hours, and mused to himself as he left Isarai to her thoughts. After a few moments, he noticed how Isarai's breathing eased, until it became deep and rhythmic, and all fidgeting subsided. She had fallen asleep.

 _Finally, some peace…_ he griped internally, and removed his shoulderguards and gloves. If they were to be stuck here, he could at least afford to have some comfort. He settled, though kept watch, assuring himself he would goad the girl awake for his turn soon enough.

* * *

Isarai's body ached, her neck and left arm was craned to an uncomfortable degree, and since began to stir her awake with the unbearably tingling feeling of pins and needles. She began to move, a soft groan escaping her lips meanwhile, until something large, fleshy and calloused clamped itself over her rosy lips, quietening her.

A muffled squeak emerged, her blue eyes popping wide open as she stared ahead into the darkness, leaves and dirt obscuring her vision and a heavy weight keeping her pressed down. She began to squirm, parting her lips in an effort to prepare a vicious bite down into her assailant, until the heavy being hoisted itself and her up, until they were both backed against the wall. The shaded figure gripped her tight against his form, which she could barely make out from peering from the corners of her eyes, though she could feel his arm behind the back of her head and his hand still pressed to her mouth. His warm breath fanned against her ear as he delicately whispered.

"Don't. Move." She recognised Anirion's voice, though hushed, still authoritative and stern. "Quiet." His fel-tainted gaze shined through the darkness, which he then squinted in order to marginally dissipate the glow. Isarai followed his gaze, and she understood the direness of the situation, for just beyond their hide-out a cartel of elven-looking creatures loitered. Their appearance struck Isarai, for they were exceptionally tall, with their skin varying from shades of bluish-grey to light green, and their eyes, hands and weaponry pulsated with fel energy. Among them, demons, and hostages drawn by chains, containing mystic-looking elves that looked similar to them, only much different. Dark hued skin, glowing violet eyes, and robes to fit that of royalty. Their expressions varied, some were bitter, regretful, fearful, or unfittingly brazen, despite their circumstance. Resolute. Yet none fought back as their feet dragged on.

The demons and fel-tinged elves eventually moved onwards, but Anirion did nothing to cease his hold on her. She peered at him from his side, measuring how his eyes became excessively calculated.

She nudged her chin upwards, but he kept his hand closeby, ready to silence her if necessary. "Should we move?" She whispered with unsureness, remaining still as a statue.

Anirion shook his head, and carefully lowered her back down after allowing a few more moments to pass. "No. Go back to sleep."

Isarai grit her teeth. How he expected her to just drift back to slumber, she couldn't understand. It was then that she caught a glance at his eyes, layered with sleep deprivation, all the more evident with the greying circles beneath the glowing orbs.

"Why don't _you_ go to sleep?" She suggested, her voice still low. Again, he shook his head. "You're tired."

"I'm fine," he arrogantly corrected, and kept his gaze where the fel-tainted creatures had just been. It was too risky for him to sleep now.

".. You know sleep deprivation kills, right?"

"As do demons," he gruffed, reaching up to rub the back of his knuckles to an eye. "I'm fine. I'll get my second wind shortly."

"You need sleep," Isarai ignored him and scooted herself further up into the fallen trunk, taking care to remain quiet in fear of the demons and their elven allies overhearing. Once finding herself as far back as she could possibly be, Isarai set down her satchel next to her, patting her hand to it in hint as her eyes flickered up to Anirion's. "Down."

"Woof, woof," Anirion rolled his eyes as he grumbled. He couldn't help but glimpse the satchel, his body yearning to just collapse and let his head hit the makeshift pillow at the quel'dorei's order. Sighing, he obeyed her and his crumbling will, lying down as much as he could within the confined space. His head met Isarai's plump satchel, and though he felt something hard at the back of his head, it was much more comfortable than bark. He bent his legs, his knees pointed to the trunk's ceiling, unable to stretch out his long legs. He set his sword down besides him, draping his hand across his stomach, his hand inches from the blade's hilt, ready for any potential disturbance.

Isarai's lips twitched into a small smile, easing herself back against the wall, turning her gaze beyond the shrubbery in preparation for her turn to watch. A squeak almost escaped her as she felt Anirion's free hand clamp his slender fingers around her wrist, shooting him an accusing glance. She moved to brush him off, though his grip only tightened to maintain hold of her limb.

"What are you-"

"Encase you do something stupid," the Knight muttered, the same arm he clasped her with obscuring his eyes. "Please." His voice grew weary, as the moment he allowed himself to see darkness, his body immediately began to shut down.

Isarai rolled her eyes, in denial of the subtle comfort radiating from the hold, a restraint that would usually send her into a surge of panic, as she settled down. She gave up the fight, allowing him to hold her wrist. It was almost reassuring, the same sensation one were to get when their hand was held. It wasn't long until his grip grew looser, perhaps enough for her to escape, as he drifted off to a well needed sleep.

But she didn't want to escape.


End file.
